Discovery and Disillusion
by kydasam
Summary: SlashVHC. Van Helsing discovers the Church's views on his freedom and how Carl feels about him. 1st Fanfic, feedback would be greatly appreciated. COMPLETED
1. Default Chapter

> > Rating: PG13  
Pairing: Carl/Gabriel  
Series/Sequel: Part one  
Summary: Van Helsing discovers the Church's views on his freedom and what Carl 'wonders' about  
Warning: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing's time (which I feel are merited), the start of slash (in a loving relationship)  
Notes: My second fanfiction, May I be worthy! If you like this,   
I'll write more. If you don't, I'll probably sulk-not a pretty picture.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play  
Feedback: Love the idea, hate flames-be kind
>> 
>> **Discovery and Disillusion**
>> 
>> Gabriel sighed, his dark brows contracting in a frown as he began to realize something was..different. He didn't feel any sense of danger...only wrongness. He'd gone to sleep early, so exhausted he'd barely had the strength to remove his clothes and then stumble onto the hard bed the  
Vatican saw fit to provide him with for the times he was "home". He'd been too tired to see Carl, tho he'd made a mental note to do so when he awoke. It was true, it had been several weeks since  
they'd last spoken, but he simply couldn't wait any longer to give in to his weariness.
>> 
>> His inner clock informed him he had been asleep for several hours and that it must now be very early in the morning. And something was....wrong....
>> 
>> Forcing his eyes open, he concentrated on the darkness before him. It was quiet...no. There was a sound...a soft suseration of noise at his side, like the sound of someone breathing.
>> 
>> Turning his head on his hard pillow, he blinked at the soft mass of his own hair obscuring his vision. His hand twitched involuntarily to push it out of his face only to find that he couldn't move his hand.   
Immediately, he was wide awake, both wrists yanking at the thick ropes that tied them to the posts at the corners of his bed. He could feel the rough hemp of the rope was muffled by some sort of cloth-where it had slipped, the rope bit into his flesh chafing it bloody.
>> 
>> "Stop it-you can't get loose and you'll hurt yourself if you keep struggling like that. I tried to pad your wrists, but I couldn't be as careful as I wanted to because I didn't want to wake you."
>> 
>> "Carl?!" Van Helsing growled, his eyes narrowing at the source of the soft distressed voice. He ceased his struggles, but his long-fingered hands closed into angry fists and his body tensed. "Why  
am I trussed up like this? Get these damned ropes off me!"
>> 
>> "Gabriel...I..." the friar choked to a stop as the sound of a match being struck resounded through the still chamber, its light illuminating the faces of both Carl and Cardinal Jinette.
>> 
>> "Do not blame him, my son," Jinette spoke disapprovingly "You've only yourself to blame for this."
>> 
>> "What?!" Van Helsing snapped disbelieving. "How could I deserve this? What is it that you think I've done that you do this to me?"
>> 
>> "Hmph, you are making much noise over a small matter. You have not been hurt, nor tortured. You are simply...restrained. For a time...until I see it is proper to release you."
>> 
>> "Restrained? I'm tied to the damned bed! What's proper about that? What the hell is...."
>> 
>> "Be silent!" Jinette's angry shout overrode the vampire hunter's words, making the friar at his side whimper and cower slightly as he looked at his friend's angry snapping eyes in the flickering candlelight. "You dared to enter the Vatican and lie to me and think that I won't find out? What  
kind of fool do you take me for, Van Helsing? You could not truly believe I would never find out you'd been bitten by a werewolf while in Transylvania?!"
>> 
>> Van Helsing felt the color ebb from his face, his eyes flew accusing to Carl though he wasn't aware they had done so until he realized the smaller man was almost weeping his apologies. Setting his  
jaw, the hunter's gaze returned to the Cardinal.
>> 
>> "So now what? You wait to see if I turn into a beast in the moonlight?"
>> 
>> The ecclesiastic shrugged as he lifted the candle, moving with it about the room to light the wall sconces. As the light improved, Van Helsing's gaze flickered about the chamber and found, to his relief, no sign of any of the church's watch dogs from the Inquisition nor any of the lesser known "handlers"-those men of the church whose job it was to handle dangerous demons and beasts and either tame them or obtain as much useful data from them as possible before they expired.
>> 
>> He stirred from his thoughts as he became aware of cold fingers touching his, sliding over his wrist, adjusting the soft cloth so that the raw rope did not bite into his flesh. Carl, his ministering angel.   
The friar flinched back as the hunter jerked his wrist out of his hands. He could not truly escape Carl's ministrations because the bindings would not allow him any play, but the small movement was enough and Carl did not press him, instead moving back to stand with hunched shoulders in the shadows.
>> 
>> Jinette had seated himself at the small table opposite the bed, his eyes thoughtful on Van Helsing's face and body. The hunter suppressed the urge to growl as he realized the bed linens covering him were down, low about his hips, and Jinette was eyeing his bare body with the interest of cold calculating science.
>> 
>> "How long," he ground out, drawing some satisfaction as the Cardinal came out of his contemplations with a start.
>> 
>> "What?"
>> 
>> "How long will you keep me this way?" Van Helsing growled, yanking at the bindings about his wrists in illustration.
>> 
>> The prelate seemed to consider, then shrugged. "I don't really like to say. It's not something that I can easily predict since there is so little known about the werewolf's venom. But...I supposed we'd be in a better position to judge once a full moon has come and gone. Afterward, of course, you will return to your normal work, making yourself available for more tests upon your return. Even if you manifest no outward signs of lycanthropy, much can still be learned from you."
>> 
>> "Hmm," Van Helsing nodded, his lips twisted in a sardonic smirk. "I see....a sort of hybrid-part hunter for the church and part science project. A very pretty future you have planned for me. And if I say no?"
>> 
>> "Don't be naive," Jinette barked, the condescension in his tone making the other man flush with anger. "You are not a free agent, whatever your ego may tell you otherwise. You are a ward of the church, inextricably tied to it. You belong to it, as do the rest of us, and you will serve it in  
whatever capacity we deem fit. Your fate..your mind..your body, all belong to the church. So stop your childish prattling on about self-determination. I have no time for your petulance any longer."
>> 
>> Abruptly, the Cardinal stood, drawing his crimson robes about him with a swirling swish and stalked to the door of the tiny cell. He spared a glance at the friar still huddled in the shadows. "Carl, you will see to his needs and keep me apprised of any changes. Any changes, however small, you understand?"
>> 
>> "Y-y-yes, your grace," the other man stammered, his eyes nervously darting to the bound man across the room.
>> 
>> "Carl," Jinette's pale hand extended from his robes to firmly take the friar's chin and dragged his face up to meet his own eyes. "I need not remind you of this I'm sure, but...you will not remove nor loosen those bonds. And no matter what he says, you will remember that you are just as bound to this church's wishes as Van Helsing is. Is that understood?"
>> 
>> The friar's eyebrows contracted in a frown, but he nodded and Jinette, satisfied, left the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.
>> 
>> The small man sighed as he steeled himself before turning his gaze reluctantly to meet the hunter's hazel eyes.
>> 
>> Van Helsing made no attempt to speak nor did he struggle against the ropes that bound him. He lay quietly, watching the friar, his expression stoney and reserved.
>> 
>> Carl found himself shrugging as he approached the bed, his white nervous hands twisting in the course stuff of his robes.
>> 
>> "I..I didn't know what he was planning, Gabriel, I swear it. I never told him....per se.... I was researching lycanthropy and it's effect on vampirism. I made some inquiries...I was discreet....I thought I was, anyway. Somehow, he put it together. He called me to his office....."
>> 
>> "And you confessed everything to him?" Van Helsing ground out through gritted teeth.
>> 
>> "No! Of course not...." Carl approached the bed, pleading, his hands leaving his robes to nervously pat the linens of the bed, briefly touching the other man's skin, then flying back down to the sheets again. "I didn't have to. He'd worked it out for himself. Even then, I thought he'd be grateful-that he'd realize you'd never sought it-but once you were stricken you used it to rid the world of Dracula and that the antidote had then rid you of the curse. But he wouldn't believe.... I...don't think he wanted to believe it, Gabriel. He was so angry that he would not listen to anything I  
said after that."
>> 
>> "Hmmm", Van Helsing eyed the friar with a gaze that quite plainly bespoke resigned understanding, before allowing his eyes to drop and track about the room. He noted that the heavy shutters obscuring the windows of the chamber had been removed so that both the sun as well as the moonlight could enter freely to spill wantonly over the bed and the man lying in it.
>> 
>> "The shutters..his idea?"
>> 
>> Carl miserably nodded. "Yes, he had them removed before you returned. You were so exhausted, I suppose you never even noticed they were gone."
>> 
>> Sighing, Van Helsing shifted on the thin mattress. "Well, this is at least better than one of the cells in the dungeons or accommodations with the Inquisitors. I should be grateful for that, at least, though I admit to being surprised. If I am to believe Jinette, I don't even rank that much despite the services I've rendered."
>> 
>> "The Cardinal has definite ideas about the Church and the relative worth of everyone in it," Carl admitted with an apologetic grimace, before continuing more thoughtfully, "I suppose you 'rank' this treatment because of the services you've provided. It's his way...I suppose...of admitting you  
deserve better....in a way....
>> 
>> Van Helsing's snort of incredulous mirth made the friar's thin mouth twist into a half smile and he edged a little closer to the bed, his hands returning to touch the other man, patting his side in a nervously comforting gesture.
>> 
>> "Gabriel? I truly am sorry. If there was anything I could have done...any way I could have stopped him or even warned you before you stepped foot into the Vatican, I would have, I swear it."
>> 
>> Van Helsing made no immediate reply, instead turning his head up to examine the ropes securing him in the light of the stuttering firelight. Plain hemp rope, nothing grand about it. At least it wasn't metal shackles. While he couldn't immediately release himself from it, over time with  
determination, he believed it was possible. And, he realized, he had more than enough determination. He'd hunted the monsters and endured the brand of 'murderer' for the church because he had believed it was the right thing to do. But he had no intention of meekly accepting his role as Jinette's science project. If they wanted to study lycanthropy, let them round up some genuine werewolves and work to rid the poor bastards of their curse. There was nothing to be gained in violating his body with their damned experiments.
>> 
>> Carl, tho he remained silent, watched his friend's face and all the myriad emotions flying through the hazel eyes. He knew what Van Helsing was thinking and it scared him. Jinette thought he could simply bid the hunter to obey and Gabriel would meekly bow down. Carl knew it would never happen as Jinette envisioned. But the church had frightening power. It had marked the hunter as one of its own and would not easily yield him up. Gabriel might have it in his head to flout that power, but ultimately it would bring him down. There had to be some way to satisfy both, so that  
both could achieve their ends without a break. That, or the two-church and hunter-would tear each other apart.
>> 
>> "Gabriel?"
>> 
>> Hazel eyes turned to the small friar, a flare of impatience quickly disappeared behind a mask of detachment. It didn't fool Carl, but he let it pass for the moment.
>> 
>> "I wish you would listen to Jinette. I know that the way he is going about this is wrong, and I believe he can be made to see reason once he's over his snit at your disobedience..."
>> 
>> "Disobedience?" the question was softly spoken, but the thunder of anger in it was deafening, making the friar back away from the bed with his hands raised placatingly.
>> 
>> "Bad choice of words! I meant....um...he is angry that we didn't tell him everything. And whether he's right in that or not is a matter for other discussions. But now, what he wants to accomplish..Gabriel, he's looking for a better understanding of this awful curse, and possibly the cure rests in you. You are the only known survivor, not only of the curse but also of the cure. Perhaps something in you could provide the answer to curing others. If that were so, in whatever misguided way Jinette is trying to achieve it, isn't it still a worthy cause?"
>> 
>> "Carl," Van Helsing sighed, and allowed his body to relax into the mattress. For a moment he closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts and pushing down his emotions. Carl was a truly good person, one of the few people he'd ever remembered meeting who actually seemed worthy of being called a man of God. But sometimes in his zeal to accomplish overall good he missed the difficult points along the way.
>> 
>> "Carl," he began again, "I have no quarrel with Jinette's desire for a cure. I'd have even agreed, probably, to all the damned tests he has in mind. But there is no excuse to treat anyone like property without will or rights of their own, regardless the greater good to be achieved. When you forfeit the rights of one person for the greater good, who's to say the next time that the rights of a hundred aren't worth the good of thousands? Or worse. No matter what Jinette says, neither you nor I, nor any of the others here, are the property of the church. We serve by desire or else it's just slavery."
>> 
>> The friar blinked, his mouth opening, closing, opening again, before a small squeak of dismay emerged. Abruptly, he leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down to sit with a thump on the dirty wooden floor.
>> 
>> "Carl?" Van Helsing strained against the ropes to see over the edge of the bed, anxiety roughening his voice. The wooden frame was sturdy and the ropes thick and tightly tied, so that all his straining accomplished was to make his hands go numb and to further rumple the bed clothes. But still he pushed, trying to see his friend. "Carl, are you alright? Dammit...you're not dead are you?"
>> 
>> A snort from the floor answered the hunter making him sag with relief. "If I were dead, you wouldn't really expect me to answer you, would you?"
>> 
>> Sighing, the hunter relaxed against the pillows with a grimace. "Actually, I wouldn't put it past you to haunt me." He fell silent and the man on the floor made no effort to speak either.
>> 
>> Through the opened window, Van Helsing could see the stars disappear in prelude to dawn. He didn't want to push the friar, but with the early morning hours it was likely that Jinette's plans for his 'testing' would begin to manifest. He wanted very much to be free when that time came.
>> 
>> "So," Van Helsing murmured, keeping his voice as calm as possible, "Judging by your abrupt and odd disappearance, either you've spotted a coin for the poor box or else something I said made sense. I'm hoping it's the latter."
>> 
>> The other man's silence continued, lasting for so long that the hunter began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep on the floor. Finally, unable to wait any longer, "Carl? Are you still there? Or did you really find a coin?"
>> 
>> "I'm here." The reluctance in the friar's voice was painful to hear. Van Helsing believed Carl was his friend and though he didn't allow himself to rely on it, he still could not quite suppress the belief that Carl must side with him.
>> 
>> "And?" Van Helsing pressed.
>> 
>> "And you are damnably correct. And I damn double damned hate it."
>> 
>> A sound from the floor shortly produced the rumpled and haggard looking friar who unsteadily rose to stand by the hunter's bed looking down at him. He eyed the captive man with a speculative air that made Van Helsing's brows draw down in a suspicious frown, his eyes narrowing as he tried to read the intent in the blue eyes.
>> 
>> "Carl? Why are you looking at me that way?"
>> 
>> "Oh," the friar spoke faintly, with a pragmatic, resigned note in his voice. "I'm just thinking I'm about to go against a direct order from the Cardinal, which will in all likelihood result in my abrupt and painful expulsion from the church and probably from this building. While I can and will  
continue to serve God whether in a secular fashion or no, I can't help but think of all the things I've never done because they would have been considered blasphemy or sacrilege by the Church. I'll be tossed ash-can over keester for this without even trying one of them once."
>> 
>> Gabriel watched his friend's face, making no effort to interrupt. He had no idea what missed opportunities his friend was talking about. It had always seemed to him that there was very little in life that Carl had denied himself, always claiming friars were allowed a great deal more latitude than seemed likely. He'd heard the admission of Carl's intention to release him and that was really all he needed to understand immediately. He had faith that Carl would make the rest clear in his own  
good time.
>> 
>> Of course, the look in the friar's eye was disconcerting.
>> 
>> "Carl? What are you thinking?"
>> 
>> The friar smiled, almost shyly, as he shrugged, his pale hands coming up to rest on the bed and play with the rumpled linens.
>> 
>> "Oh, well...I suppose, since I'm going to commit what amounts to ecclesiastical suicide, I might as well indulge myself just this once. Actually, Gabriel, I was wondering...."
>> 
>> The vampire hunter's gaze never left the blue eyes, eyebrows raised in interrogatory arcs, he waited for as long as he could before prompting, "Carl, time's passing. Can you let me up from here while you're pondering this weighty issue?"
>> 
>> The friar flushed, chewed his lip, then shook his head. "Ah...not right away...no."
>> 
>> "Not right....Carl, what the hell? I thought you agreed...."
>> 
>> "Oh I do! I'll release you, of course, Gabriel. There's just...something I want to do first....and it seems like a very good idea to do it while you're ... er....safe."
>> 
>> "'Safe'", the vampire hunter growled, eyes narrowing. "Carl...."
>> 
>> The friar smiled, moved to hold one finger to Van Helsing's lips, silencing him. Then, taking a deep breath, Carl leaned forward and replaced his finger with his lips, pressing them firmly to Van Helsing's.
>> 
>> The vampire hunter's eyes flew wide open as he felt the friar's lips move on his own, and the warm wetness of Carl's tongue lick him so that he gasped. His opened lips seemed to be all the invitation  
Carl needed and the friar's tongue immediately dipped in and made itself at home, nestling about Van Helsing's. His hands moved to touch and fondle the hunter's long dark hair and the column of his throat, stroking and holding it.
>> 
>> Making an incoherent noise due to his mouth being effectively blocked, Van Helsing's body writhed on the bed as he growled against Carl's lips. Abruptly, Van Helsing spat out Carl's tongue, turning his head to the side as he freed his mouth.
>> 
>> "Carl!"
>> 
>> The friar jumped back with the alacrity of a scalded cat, his hands thrown out placatingly before him. "Oh, you didn't like it? Did I do it wrong? I've never had complaints before, but of course maybe it's different with a man."  
  
"Different?!" Van Helsing wheezed then coughed, his voice returning as a growl. "I'll say it's bloody different! You waited until I'm tied to a damned bed to stick your tongue into my mouth?!"
>> 
>> Carl flushed beet red as he fidgeted, his hands clenching and unclenching in the rumpled sheets. If possible, his rounded shoulders rounded even more until they threatened to swallow his head.
>> 
>> "Well....it seemed as good a time as any. And I've wondered so long...you see...what it would be like...what you would, er, taste...like....."
>> 
>> "Taste...." Van Helsing was horrified to feel a blush start at his hairline and rush downward like a tidal wave. Growling, he clenched his hands into fists and yanked at the restraints about his wrists. "This isn't some sleazy brothel, Carl, where you can experience your bondage fantasies."
>> 
>> Rather than withering under Van Helsing's ire, the friar seemed to rally. Fire replaced shyness in his eyes and his voice firmed up to one of unmistakable snarkiness.
>> 
>> "Bondage fantasies?! Is that what you think I was doing? I've waited the entire time I've know you...dreamed about this...wondered. And this is it? Hah! Not exactly worth the wait! I'm not some groping, gangling street urchin spreading it for a copper, Gabriel! Alright, you didn't like it,  
but all you had to say was 'no'. Did you think I'd force myself on you? Was a simple kiss so damned awful that you have to be a complete...."
>> 
>> "CARL!" Van Helsing's bellow caused the dust to settle from the aging timbers above while outside the window the sound of startled birds rang out raucously.
>> 
>> "You interrupted me," the friar's petulant voice was barely a murmur as he eyed the man before him hesitantly.
>> 
>> Van Helsing's voice easily overrode Carl's. It was low, grating, and shook with barely managed restraint.
>> 
>> "Ropes. Cut them. Self pity. Stop it. You want to kiss me, wait until I'm not tied down. You want 'safe', stick with women. Start cutting, Carl. Now."
>> 
>> The friar's eyes grew huge as he backed away from the bed. Without taking his eyes off the other man, he sidled over to the rickety table where Van Helsing's coat haphazardly lay. Reaching under  
it, he easily located the large silver sword Van Helsing always carried.
>> 
>> Approaching the bed with trepidation, the friar awkwardly unsheathed the blade and carefully began to saw weakly at the ropes binding Van Helsing's left wrist, which happened to be nearest to him. The Vampire hunter said nothing, his snapping eyes pinned Carl's, their hard gaze never releasing  
his.
>> 
>> Carl felt rather than watched the strands of rope part, unraveling half it's thickness, but he wasn't prepared for the man reclining before him to suddenly surge upright, his arm knotting in a corded mass of muscle as he snapped the remaining strands still binding him.
>> 
>> With a squawk, Carl fell backwards only to be abruptly held motionless by Van Helsing's hand buried in the front of his robes, hauling him back upright and over to the bed until he was nose to nose with the hunter.
>> 
>> Blue eyes met hazel with only an inch separating them. When Van Helsing spoke, his breath bathed Carl's lips in an intimate warmth that made goose bumps leap up on the friar's skin.
>> 
>> "Don't move from there. Give me the blade."
>> 
>> Bringing the blade around before him, the smaller man winced as Van Helsing released him and seized the sword in one motion. The next instant the blade swung up in a singing shimmer of light that passed through the ropes and the post of the bed in one sweep.
>> 
>> Immediately, the hunter dropped the blade on the bed and swung his legs out, shoving the rumpled sheets aside to stand naked before the friar.
>> 
>> He eyed the smaller man with what appeared to Carl to be a thoughtful air before speaking. "'Safe', Carl? Tell me what was 'safe' about what you just did?"
>> 
>> "Oh...ah...well...er, I suppose...nothing?" the friar squeaked, his hands rising to clutch at each other at chest height. "You know...er, Gabriel...I can see your point, truly, and maybe I did take some small advantage....."
>> 
>> "Some?" the vampire hunter's lips turned up at the corners as he paced toward the friar one step and watched him backpedal hastily to keep the small distance between them.
>> 
>> "Well, alright...quite a lot then. But it wasn't all that bad, surely. I mean, I just wondered...haven't you ever wondered....just a little?"
>> 
>> The taller man's lips pursed slightly as he seemed to consider the question. He took another step forward, allowing the other to take another back. "Wondered...what, Carl? What it would be like  
to kiss another man? Or what it would be like to kiss you?"
>> 
>> "Eeep!" was his only answer as Carl abruptly fetched up against the wall of the small cell.
>> 
>> Van Helsing took the final step that placed him within 2 inches of the friar. He could feel the smaller man's body heat rolling off of him, could feel the palpable wash of tension and embarrassment of the friar and found it touching.
>> 
>> "Carl...what am I going to do with you?" he sighed, his hands rising to come to rest heavily on the thin shoulders of his friend, giving them a little shake. "Is there anything that mind of yours doesn't wonder?"
>> 
>> Carl's mouth opened and closed several times as his eyebrows took erratic flight. Obviously, he was giving the question some quality thought, and normally Van Helsing would have loved to indulge  
him with all the time necessary to come to a conclusion. But the first glimmer of dawn was starting to light the room and the time they had left was drawing to a close.
>> 
>> Still.... With a smile curving his lips, the hunter leaned down to place his mouth against Carl's, just touching.
>> 
>> "I think your little experiment will be more satisfying when we have more time. But maybe this will do until then," he breathed against the trembling lips, smiling.
>> 
>> Gently, his mouth took Carl's, pressing down, drawing the friar's lower lip into his own mouth to suck at it wetly. His body pressed up against the smaller man's pinning it to the wall, causing Carl to raise his face and rise up on tip toe. Judging by the noises Carl made and the fact that it seemed Van Helsing's hands were the only thing holding him upright, the little friar was enjoying the kiss much more than he'd ever expected to. The friar's hands fluttered against the skin of Van Helsing's waist briefly before coming down to clutch at him, fingers splayed over his hips. He pressed his hips against Carl's, pushing them slightly up the wall, then rubbing against them just enough to elicit a strangled gasp of pleasure from the other man as his thighs obligingly parted. Van Helsing easily  
supported Carl's weight and judging by the hardening taking place between them, Carl was enjoying the feelings he was experiencing a great deal. Reluctantly, Van Helsing slowly released the moist  
lip; licking it with satisfaction, he nuzzled strongly against Carl's nose and mouth with a sigh.
>> 
>> "Nice....very nice. I hope that lived up to expectations? At least for a start."
>> 
>> With reluctance, the vampire hunter stepped back, then had to hastily catch the friar as he started to slide down the wall.
>> 
>> "Carl? Are you alright? Carl..wake up!"
>> 
>> Van Helsing pulled the friar toward the bed and eased him into a sitting position on it, shaking him gently. The smaller man's head bobbed like a rag doll's as he slowly regained his senses. Watching him, the vampire hunter lips parted in a large grin as he shook his head.
>> 
>> "I don't know whether to be flattered or appalled, Carl. Are you alright?"
>> 
>> "Yes...yes, I'm fine....oh definitely, definitely yes to that. Sorry..just, everything that's happened tonight...no sleep for days...that, er, sort of thing." The friar sighed as he gently traced his own lips with shaking fingers, his face alight with wonder. "It _**is**_ different, you know?"
>> 
>> "Mm-Hmm. I can see that--at least I hope you don't do this when you're with your tavern doxies. If you do, maybe I should start carrying the travel money."
>> 
>> The friar rallied to raise his eyes to the hunter's, exasperation sharpening his voice and features.
>> 
>> "No, I'm not like this with them! Or, at least not since I was 16. Have some compassion, Van Helsing, and spare me your crude jokes."
>> 
>> "Sorry," the dark man's smile grew wider, but his voice was conciliatory. "Can you sit up now? I really need to get dressed."
>> 
>> "Yes, yes.. .of course you do. Go ahead, I'm fine. I'll just stay here, if you don't mind."
>> 
>> Van Helsing snorted, shaking his head he ruffled the friar's hair before turning to the small table to retrieve his clothing. A scant handful of moments passed before he was fully dressed and pulling on  
his high boots, lacing them with jerking motions.
>> 
>> He dressed completely, even pulling on his coat and donning his hat. Then he retrieved his sword, swinging it up and over his shoulder and into it's sheathe on his back. When ready, he turned to the  
bed, and gestured Carl to join him as he strode to the door. The friar jumped to the ground and trotted to his side, as Van Helsing threw the heavy door open. They left the room without a backward glance.
>> 
>> "Where...where are we go..going?" Carl breathlessly stammered, trying to keep up with Van Helsing's long strides.
>> 
>> The Vampire hunter's reply consisted of a single word.
>> 
>> "Jinette."
>> 
>> Tbc


	2. Discovery and Disillusion 2Enemy Within

Rating: PG13  
Pairing: Carl/Gabriel  
Series/Sequel: Part two

Summary: Van Helsing discovers the Church's views on his freedom and what Carl 'wonders' about

Warning: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing's time (which I feel are merited), the start of slash (in a loving relationship)

Notes: My second fanfiction, May I be worthy! If you like this, I'll write more. If you don't, I'll probably sulk–not a pretty picture.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play

Feedback: Love the idea, hate flames–be kind Thanks to **_Raphe1 for reviewing._**

* * *

TIME LINE: 1840 

Dominicans were known as Domini canes (God's dogs)

**_St. Dominic de Guzman Quote: _**

A man who governs his passions is master of his world. We must either command them or be enslaved by them. It is better to be a hammer than an anvil. - Saint Dominic

Catholic Inquisition-

Origin: Conceived by the 4th Lateran Council in 1215 A.D. by Pope Gregory 9th. Formerly handed over to Dominicans in 1232, they became the Papal secret police.

Dissolved: 1870

Purpose: Discover and purge heretics (the enemy within), pagans (the enemy  
without), and witches (the Church's hostility to sex and women).

Note of Interest: The Death Penalty was prescribed by the Vatican for the following "offenses":

Premarital promiscuity. Dent 22:20-24  
Fornication. Hebrews 13:4, 1 Thes 4:3, 1 Cor.6:18, Rom 1:18-27  
Adultery. Dt. 22:22, Lv 20:10, 1 Cor 7:2, Exodus 20:14-17  
Homosexual intercourse. Lv 20:13  
Divorce. Mark 10: 11, 12, Matt. 19:9, 1 Cor 6:9, 10  
Bestiality. Lv 20.15,16  
Incest. Lv 20:11-14  
Witches. Exodus 22:18, Dt 18:9  
Blasphemy. Lv 24:16  
Apostasy. Dt 13.  
Defiance of parental authority. Dt 21:18-21. Paul accepts these, Rom 1:32, 7:3

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**Discovery and Disillusion, Chapter 2-The Enemy Within**

Van Helsing's footsteps rang on the stone as he strode through the Vatican's hallways. Behind him, Carl's softer footsteps were muffled counterpoints. Neither man bothered noting the waking  
movement in the great hallways nor the sounds of the day beginning. Nothing could sway Van  
Helsing's intent, not the beauty of the edifice nor the people they passed that called greetings to  
them, not even Carl's hissed warnings when Van Helsing pushed through a crowd of clerics and  
several cardinals. The hunter only slowed down when he came face to face with a crowd of men the friar realized were the white and black garbed dogs of the church-the Inquisitors.

God's Dogs, they were called, and like wild dogs they had as little care for the flesh they tore and the lives they rendered. These now walked the halls of the Vatican, clothed in the garb of mendicant friars, they watched and heard everything and had pity for none of it. Looking at their closed thoughtful faces, Carl remembered the kiss he had so innocently enjoyed earlier and felt a bead of sweat slip down between his shoulder blades.

Van Helsing eyed the black friars with the same cold veiled watchfulness that Carl had seen on his face once before–when he had faced Dracula. The tension between the man and the church dogs he faced seemed to drain all life from their surroundings–only they and the Inquisitors remained, judging one another.

Then, slowly, the knot of men parted to allow the vampire slayer to pass.

Carl made very certain that he stayed as close to Van Helsing as possible as they passed through the quiet ranks.

Once past, Carl could feel the tension ease from Van Helsing's body. He wasn't sure what the  
slayer's acquaintanceship with the Inquisitors entailed, and he wasn't sure he would ever want to  
know.

Though now wary, the hunter continued on toward his goal, his one obsession–Jinette.

The friar hastened his steps as they approached the wing of the Vatican that housed Jinette's  
apartments. He grabbed at the hunter's arm and had to lean back to avoid being dragged along in Van Helsing's wake. As it was, the hunter actually snarled at him, as though he were still part wolf, making Carl flinch back.

"Gabriel, stop! You can't just walk into Jinette's apartments as though you own them. Not even  
you, he won't allow it."

"He'll have no choice," the hunter growled, his eyes swinging from Carl's face to the dark wood  
doors at the end of the corridor. The hazel of the taller man's eyes had darkened, and had assumed almost an animalistic intensity. Carl shuddered when he realized he likened the vampire hunter's aspect to that of a large feral hound who felt no fear, only the blood call of the hunt. Whether this aspect sprang from the werewolf taint, or from the nature of the man himself, the friar was uncertain, but it was terrifying. He never wanted to see that look directed at himself, but he also had to stop his friend from committing this foolhardy action.

Jinette was a Cardinal, an ordained, anointed head of the Church with the power of life and death. His words were the words of God in this place, and in his hands was ultimate power. Van Helsing was his tool, his chosen weapon, to be wielded as he saw fit. Both their lives rested in Jinette's hands whether they desired it or not. The old man was autocratic, domineering, narrow-minded, without pity–and he was a terrible adversary. True, in the past, he had shown them both kindness, it was said he looked on both Carl and Gabriel with unexpected tolerance and favor. But that was a luxury not to be tested indiscriminately.

"Gabriel!" Carl hissed and dragged back on the hunter's arm until he was forced to look away from his goal and focus on the friar. To say he looked displeased was a gross and shocking lie. The man was holding his anger in by main will alone, and he had no intention of continuing to do so for much longer. Gulping down his unease, Carl drew close to the hunter, speaking softly for his ears alone.

"Gabriel, he won't listen unless there is some reason for him to do so. He doesn't see what he did as wrong. And he sees you and I as tools–nothing more. True, perhaps we are favorite tools, but certainly we aren't people in his eyes. It would never occur to him to think of us as such."

The vampire hunter shrugged off the smaller man's hand with an annoyed grimace. "I know that,  
Carl. I know it very well, especially after his latest proof of it. You don't have to come with me,  
but I am going in. My only other option is to leave the Vatican and then have to dodge his dogs  
when he sends them after me."

"No, that's not the only option! He wants to study the effects of werewolf venom, fine, let him.  
Agree with him! Then parlay for what you want. Come to a compromise with him."

The only answer from the other man was a snort of humor. Van Helsing continued on toward the apartment's doors ignoring the friar's stricken hiss to come back.

As he approached the doors, two dark shapes emerged from the shadows on either side. Vatican guards. Van Helsing wasn't surprised. He had been aware of them from the start. He barely broke stride as he came abreast of them, reaching out to seize the front of their tunics he slammed them back against the stone walls, hearing the sound of their metal helmets clanging deafeningly on the hard surface. They slid from his grasp like water to puddle at his feet. Van Helsing didn't even slow down, not even when he heard Carl's whimper of horror behind him.

The heavy wooden doors flew open before his impatient shove, rebounding off the stone walls  
behind them, creating such a wind in their passing that tables covered with parchment temporarily resembled a flock of gulls. Precious centuries-old documents took to the air like startled birds, flapping and rustling, before settling haphazardly over the floor, chairs, and sliding under heavy cabinets.

Van Helsing stopped where he stood, eyeing the turmoil with a pleased air. Carl started to stoop to pick up one parchment almost resting on the hunter's foot and was stopped by a gesture.

Across the room from the great doors, a set of smaller doors was abruptly thrust open to reveal

Cardinal Jinette, dressed in his red robes of office, still holding the rosary and bible he used for his own morning prayers. His face was pale with two spots of bright color on either cheek. His dark snapping gaze alighted on Van Helsing with shock that rapidly transmuted to anger when it moved on to Carl.

"You have disobeyed me, Carl. I pray you have a reason."

"Don't look to him," Van Helsing growled, stalking forward into the great room, his gaze fixed on the prelate. "He tried to stop me, to make me see your reasoning, but as you can see, " the vampire hunter gestured to himself. "So, now that I am no longer tied down, perhaps you can explain to me again how I came to be your property and why I should be satisfied to remain so."

The Cardinal's eyes narrowed as his mouth thinned to a bloodless line. His attention now was solely for Van Helsing. "Very well, slayer, I'll explain it so that you may understand."

Carl fought the urge to cover his eyes as Van Helsing moved like water over the distance between himself and the Cardinal to stand towering over the old man. He didn't know what to expect, but this didn't seem like an auspicious beginning.

"Yes," the vampire slayer's voice was almost a purr. "Please, do."

"Hmph," Jinette frowned, but his gaze no longer held any of the condescension it had shown  
previously. He looked up at the man before him with sharp awareness and if he didn't show fear,  
nor did he appear unmoved. When he spoke, it was in a softer, more placating tones that made Carl wonder.

"Gabriel, perhaps I was too hard on you. It is true that I see you as an instrument of the church, but I'm sensitive to the fact that you are also a man in search of truth. Such truths as only we of the Order can help you discover. I believe that it can be a mutually beneficial association."

Van Helsing's head cocked slightly to one side, his dark brows rising in a sardonic arch. "Ah,  
'mutually beneficial'. That doesn't sound like the Jinette I know. Certainly not the man who,  
scarcely an hour ago told me my fate, mind and body belonged to the church. That 'self-  
determination' was denied to me. Tell me, Jinette; if I decided our mutually beneficial relationship  
no longer suited me–if I left–would you send your dogs after me?"

"Why would you leave? You have everything you desire here?" Jinette snapped, waving his hands at the room around them. "You live in one of the most beautiful palaces in the world. Your work removes evil from the world–do not tell me that doesn't matter to you because I know that it does. You have the companionship of learned men who work to keep you safe and leap to act on your every request. No potentate ever had such slavish devotion to their slightest whim. You have only to mention a need and it is taken care of . . . "

"Enough!" Van Helsing growled, shaking his head. "I don't know how you came to believe such  
drivel, but I pray that you'll come to your senses one day soon. I don't desire nor have I ever  
wanted what you describe. Those are the things you enjoy, not me. My needs! Since when is a  
new weapon, a different mission, a new opportunity to kill have anything to do with my needs? I do what must be done." Abruptly Van Helsing threw up his arms, whirling about to gesture at the room around him. "This 'palace' is your den, not mine. Don't shove it down my throat, I don't  
want it."

Huffing angrily, Jinette slammed his bible and rosary down on a nearby table, then stalked past Van Helsing and Carl to the great entry doors. Eyeing the two downed guards, he whirled to face the two men.

"Your wants are going to be the death of me, Van Helsing! All right, fine, what is that you do  
want? My blessings to flout the church's authority over you? Dispensation to leave the Vatican's  
service? Freedom from any and all authority, however nominal? Fine! Granted! Take your leave  
and to Hell with you!"

"Cardinal!" Carl gasped, thunderstruck. "You can't! We need him!"

"Can't, Carl? Can't what? Can't dispense with a thorn in my side? Can't finally stop fighting the  
inevitable and finally give in to the fact that I'm tired of these petty scenes that I have to put up with from all sides? Van Helsing talks of self-determination–how much of that do you suppose I have? I have served this church and the Order practically all my life and that is a good deal longer than any man should have to put up with such nonsense. So fine, let him go. Yes, he is the weapon of the church and yes, we need him. But by God, I am tired of that fact!"

"As am I," Van Helsing growled and turned away, striding to the door.

"No, no! Gabriel, Cardinal, please! We can discuss this..."

"Enough," Van Helsing spoke harshly as he easily pushed past the friar and continued out the door.

The two church men stood alone in the large chamber, the friar gazing at the Cardinal with shocked wonder while the Cardinal refused to meet his eyes. In the morning light, it occurred to Carl that the Cardinal was so much older than he'd ever realized. Jinette had always been the immoveable rock, the terrifying personification of the Church's dogma corrupted by centuries of man's interpretation of the word of God. And now?

"Your Grace," Carl began brokenly only to fall silent. He had no idea what to say. The older man moved without a word over to the table to pick up his bible. As he did so he paused, noting for the first time that there was two rosaries on the table now–his own and the one that he had given Van Helsing years ago. It was battered and dulled, and the silver of the crucifix was pitted and worn from much rubbing. It was a thing that had seen much and been touched often. Taking it in his hands, he could feel the life thrumming in it, he could feel heat and light...he could feel the hand of God.

Whirling, the Cardinal moved quickly to the great doors shouting. Outside he heard running  
footsteps and other voices raised in shouts. Then he heard the clash of metal on metal.

"Oh no!" Carl moaned. "You didn't set the guards on him!"

"Aye, damn him to hell for it too!" the Cardinal snarled and ran from the room and down the  
corridor toward the sounds of warfare.

"Stop it! Stop it this instant! Van Helsing! Lay down your weapon!"

The vampire slayer paused, disengaging from the three men facing him, but he did not lay down the sword he held.

Quickly, Carl moved to the vampire slayer's side and Van Helsing nodded his acceptance. No  
matter what else was to occur, he accepted that Carl would remain at and guard his back.  
Jinette moved slowly between the combatants, his hands out urging the guards to fall back.

Reluctantly, they gave ground, slowly lowering their swords. Only then did Van Helsing do the  
same.

With a sigh, Jinette turned to Van Helsing. "You, come with me."

Van Helsing's mouth twitched, one corner rising in a mocking grimace. "You forget, your Grace," he growled, "I don't work for you any longer."

"And you forget, Van Helsing," he snapped, "you will always work for God. In his name, I am  
willing to put up with a great deal. I expect you to do the same." With a flick of his wrist, Jinette  
tossed something at the hunter, then turned on his heel and proceeded without a backward glance back to his apartments.

Easily, Van Helsing caught the object, realizing only once he held it that it was the rosary he had left on the table. Feeling the cold slight weight of the silver in his hand when he had believed it to be left behind him forever, he paused and felt his anger dissipate. For a moment, his eyes rose to consider the three guards arrayed before him, swords still drawn though lowered. More were coming, he could hear them from all sides. And he felt the cold that preceded even worse, the Inquisitors. He also felt the presence of the man behind him, one that would be hurt even if he was victorious.

Mostly, though, he felt the weight of the memory the little silver beads recalled for him. And  
memories, above all else, were something he prized.

Turning, he sheathed his sword. He heard Carl's gusty exhalation of relief and felt a genuine smile touch his lips.

"All right," he murmured to the friar. "I'll talk with him."

"Thank God!" Carl breathed as a huge grin spread over his face.

As they made their way back to Jinette's apartments, both men were well aware of the crowd that followed. Jinette's shouts must have roused the entire Vatican. Carl wondered if even the Pope had sat up in bed for it, then remonstrated himself for what he was sure was blasphemy.

The whole thing was surreal to the little friar. It was as if he were dreaming but he'd already  
pinched himself at least twice and had the bruises to show for it.

Van Helsing seemed oblivious to it all. The man didn't seem human. He didn't sweat, nor tremble, nor even curse. Only his constantly moving eyes gave away the fact that he was even aware of the situation they were in or the crowd that seemed to appear all around them.

Clusters of Carl's fellow inventors as well as other religeuses he was familiar with seemed to be  
popping out of the woodwork to stand whispering, pointing, nodding as if they weren't surprised that Carl and Van Helsing had gotten themselves into a scrape. The sight of them made Carl want to curse. Loudly.

His introspection was interrupted by a nudge from Van Helsing and the friar looked up with  
surprise.

"What?" he whispered, his blue eyes darting about. "Don't tell me we're in even more trouble,  
please don't tell me."

"We're in trouble, but it's the same trouble as before," the slayer assured him, apparently meaning to be soothing and failing dismally. "Just don't start anything you can't finish."

"Me," the friar squeaked, outraged. "You're the one who had to break down Jinette's doors!  
You practically dared the man to throw you to the Inquisition! I begged you not to go, begged  
you, Gabriel! But would you listen?"

"I'm listening now," the slayer sighed resignedly, and was rewarded with a sharp pinch that made  
him grunt in protest. "Ow, damnit!"

"Serves you right!"

"Carl, calm down. You're not in trouble, just me. I dare say if you wanted to duck down some side hallway, you'd never be missed."

That earned the slayer another black look and cold silence that the friar kept up almost all the way back to the great doors of Jinette's apartments. As they approached, Carl relented enough to poke Van Helsing surreptitiously in the back and hiss at him.

"What? Speak up Carl, listening to your hissing back there is like having a snake in my pocket."

"I said," the friar snarled waspishly, "try to keep your temper. We'll both have to bend a good  
deal to keep the Cardinal in any kind of humor."

"Hmm," Van Helsing cocked his head to one side as he thoughtfully eyed the doors before them. "If I were him, I'd be more worried about keeping you and me in good humor. I wonder if he's picked up his papers yet?"

As Carl's mouth dropped open in a horrified "No!", Van Helsing shoved the heavy wooden doors open with all his strength and exhibited every sign of satisfaction as they flew back and rebounded off the stone walls with a sound like canon shot.

Inside the room, a bevy of scribes and friars were scrambling to put the Cardinal's papers in order again only to have the stacks take frantic wing to sail about the room obviously headed for new horizons.

Carl buried his face in his hands as the scribes and friars alike fixed Carl with a look of profound  
disappointment. Naturally, they wouldn't dare castigate the slayer–his reputation was too daunting for that. But Carl fully anticipated they'd have no such scruples where he himself was concerned. Sooner or later, he'd have to answer and he fully intended to put it off as long as possible.

Cardinal Jinette appeared again in the smaller doorway leading to his bed chamber, his face a rictus of snarling outrage as he took in the flying papers and scrambling scribes.

"Get out, get out all of you! By God, I have had all the noise and mayhem I'll endure. Out!"

Van Helsing looked down at Carl and shrugging turned as if to leave only to halt at Jinette's  
pointing finger and hissing voice.

"Van Helsing . . . you will stay. Carl, you as well. Don't you dare move one step out that door  
and for your own sakes, don't even consider provoking me any further. The rest of you, get out!"

TBC


	3. Discovery and Disilluion 3 Jinette

Rating: PG13  
Pairing: Carl/Gabriel  
Series/Sequel: Part three  
Summary: Van Helsing and Carl have it out with Jinette–some things are resolved,  
other mysteries are revealed.  
Warning: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing's time (which I feel are merited),  
the start of slash (in a loving relationship)  
Notes: I hope you like this. Romantic tingly stuff is coming up in the next chapter  
which has been posted with this one..  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play  
Feedback: SPECIAL THANKS to reviewers Verona Dracula, Alpha27, Raphe1, and Queen-  
of-Demon-Dragons. Your advice is excellent and your praise makes it possible to  
keep writing. HUG

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**Archangel Gabriel:** Reputed in Christian religions to be an angel of mercy and consolation rather than a warrior like Michael. He is reputed to have appeared in prophecy before Mary (to advise her of the coming of Christ), to St. Joseph, to Elizabeth (to advise her of John the Baptist's birth) and to the Shepherds. He was also reputed to be the angel who strengthened Jesus in the garden. Interestingly, in the Jewish faith, it is Michael who is the consoler and Gabriel who is the warrior reputed to be responsible for the destruction of Sodom and the host of Sennacherib.

**_In the pantheon of angels, Gabriel is one of the 7 who stand before God as the highest of God's messengers._**

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**Discovery and Disillusion-3**

In the face of Jinette's anger, the room emptied in a concerted, heaving, shoving rush that left Carl breathless and Van Helsing smirking. The hunter was obviously enjoying every minute of the mayhem he'd caused and Carl didn't know whether to admire him for it or to kick him. Sharply.

"You certainly know how to put the fear of God into 'em," Van Helsing raised an eyebrow at Jinette and grinned. "How does it feel to be the big bad bogey man?"

Jinette made no direct answer; instead, he moved across the room, shoving parchment out of his way with the toe of his shoe to seat himself at the table. Once there, he gestured to the two men to approach while he rubbed his forehead. There were no other chairs at the table that weren't covered in paraphernalia, so the two men stood, Carl ill-at-ease, Van Helsing calm and watchful.

At first, no one spoke; the silence squatted in the room, large and embarrassing, as if no one was quite sure how to get past it to start the talks. Van Helsing gave every indication that he would not start, and Jinette appeared equally as determined to make him do so. The outcome of this 'compromise' did not look good if it was already starting with what amounted to a pissing contest.

Unable to stand the suspense, Carl cleared his throat, then hastily backed down when he was fixed by two pairs of cold quelling eyes. Allllright, evidently, his role was just to be the silent bystander. He could do that, quite easily.

Time passed, each minute staggering by like an elephant on stilts until Carl felt he couldn't stand it any longer, he'd have to say something just to break the tension. He almost jumped when Jinette abruptly lowered the hand he'd been rubbing his forehead with to thump the table loudly with it.

"Are you going to just stand there all day and waste my time needlessly? You might not have better things to do...actually, I happen to know you have better things to do!"

"You didn't answer my question," Van Helsing observed equably, apparently unfazed by Jinette's bad humor.

The prelate's dark eyebrows swooped down in annoyed bemusement. "Question? What question! You've not said a word since you got in here–you've stood there, like some sort of dumb post."

"Hmm, you're not very good at hearing others are you?" Van Helsing cocked his head, regarding  
Jinette with interest. "I asked you a question when you first came into the room. Don't you recall?"

"No, I don't recall any such thing! I recall you making a God awful mess of my personal papers. I recall you disturbing my morning prayers. And I recall with perfect clarity your childish behavior earlier. What question are you talking about?"

"I asked if you enjoyed being the bogey man. If you enjoy putting the fear of God into others," Van Helsing murmured.

Jinette blanched; sitting back in his chair, he contemplated the hunter stonily as his hand sharply  
tapped the table, palm down so the bottom of his ring made a muffled clicking noise. "No, of course

I don't. What do those men have to do with our discussion? Are you trying to insult me just to get a rise out of me?"

Shaking his head, Van Helsing leaned one hip against the table and folded his arms. "No, not at all. Actually, I think it makes an important point. I came in to discuss my freedoms, or the lack of them. If you'll recall, I woke up this morning tied down like an animal. You said you did it because you wanted to study the effects of werewolf venom."

"Yes...and...so? I am capable of remembering events that took place only hours ago, you know!"

"You were angry because I hadn't told you about the werewolf bite. So you took it on yourself to punish me and to remind me that I had no right to protest, or to expect differently from you. You enjoyed putting me in my place, didn't you?"

"Enjoyed? What an odd word to use! Of course I didn't 'enjoy' it. I did what had to be done..."

"Why?" Van Helsing leaned over the table, hands braced among the papers and scattered quills, his gaze intent on the prelate's. "Why did you have to do it? I serve the church, I do what is required of me. But that doesn't make me one of your scurrying sweating scribes. If you want something from me, ask me. If you're angry with me, tell me. But don't think you can leash me like a dog and expect me to heel when called."

"You're insolent, Van Helsing. It's not something I'm accustomed to putting up with."

"And you're the bogey man–I am accustomed to dealing with your kind. In fact, I'm rather good  
at it."

Carl stifled a gasp, he could feel the color draining from his face. He couldn't believe how bad  
things had gotten in so short a time. He wanted very much to run out of the door and disappear into the comforting anonymity of his lab. How had he ever gotten involved in this debacle? He had to do something or these two were going to tear each other apart.

"Gabriel, stop it!" Carl moved forward to pull the other man upright and away from the table. "You can't do this, you can't threaten him like that!"

The hunter made no reply, he allowed Carl to pull him away, but the look he cast back in Jinette's direction did not hold a trace of remorse or capitulation. It occurred to Jinette, as he watched the enigmatic man that he purported to give orders to, that the hunter was as much a mystery to him as he himself appeared to be to Van Helsing.

"You have some very odd ideas, Van Helsing," the old prelate mused, his tapping hand stilled as he slouched back in his chair. "I'm not sure I have the strength or patience to deal with them, but I must say they are compellingly unique. Don't you realize that there is a natural order to things?  
That we all have our place in that order and that certain things are expected of us if we are to  
function in that order?"

The dark arches of Van Helsing's eyebrows swooped down as his hazel eyes gleamed with the first signs of his original anger. But he was carefully gentle as he put Carl away from him to return to the table, ignoring the small friar's hissed warnings.

"Who decided that order? It seems to me the church decided how things were going to be for the rest of us. Then you cut yourself a fat slab of power and expect the rest of us to survive choking on the bone and gristle that's left. And if we complain, we're heretics and fair game for the Inquisitors. Tell me, Jinette," Van Helsing's voice lowered to a growl as he eyed the other man with dislike. "When you sic your church dogs on the heretics that don't fit into your order, do you ever let yourself wonder what happens to them? Or do you just move on and find another body to plug into the empty hole they leave behind?"

"Hmph. That is something that I will not discuss with you, Van Helsing. Suffice it to say that I ...  
like you...have many duties that fall on me that I don't enjoy. Now, I want to know–you say I have only to ask you when I want something from you. That's hardly the case, we both know it, but I'm willing to humor you. You see, I do appreciate your unique worth. You are not...what did you call them? A 'scurrying scribe'. I realize this. So–I require you to submit to several tests to determine the extent you are tainted by the werewolf's poison."

"He's not tainted," Carl protested, forgetting his earlier decision to stay well back from the fray.  
"He took an antidote..."

"Vampire's blood," Jinette sniffed. "Hardly better, Carl. If he's no longer tainted by the wolf, how do we know he isn't, instead, tainted with Dracula's blood?"

"Hmph," Van Helsing snorted, folding his arms with an amused grimace. "Damned if I do, and  
damned if I don't, eh? Alright, who'll do these tests?"

Carl's squawk of protest was overridden by Jinette's surprised and hasty reply.

"Excellent, Gabriel! You see, there was no need for the unpleasantness of your earlier actions. If  
you see fit to behave, I see no reason why the tests can't be done by someone you feel comfortable with. Carl, he can oversee them...with some assistance, of course."

"What! I...I wouldn't know...I don't know how to do this. I'm a weapons maker, not a  
physician!"

"Yes, yes, Carl," Jinette waved a hand in Carl's general direction, his attention apparently solely for Van Helsing. "As I said, with some assistance, I have no doubt that Carl will do nicely."

"When," Van Helsing asked softly, still watching Jinette's eyes.

"Today of course. The sooner the better–we can't have you lolling about the Vatican, there's too  
many matters that require your attention elsewhere."

"Of course," the hunter grimaced. "Anything else?"

"No, that is all. Quite simple, really. You'll find the laboratory for the testing downstairs."

"Alright. Just one thing..." Van Helsing's quiet murmur arrested Jinette's rising from his chair and  
the prelate slowly sank back down eyeing he hunter with the bearing of a man kicking himself for  
not being fast enough to side-step an expected bullet.

"Yes?" Jinette asked with weary patience, scowling when he saw Van Helsing's lips curve into a  
smile.

"I've heard what you require of me. Now I have a few..requirements..of my own. You say you  
respect my worth and you've already said that my every need is attended to. This shouldn't be  
much of a stretch."

"No, actually I was wondering when I'd be hearing your demands," Jinette sighed and waved his  
hand as he slouched down into his chair once more. "Go ahead."

Van Helsing's demeanor didn't change, but Carl felt the barely perceptible alteration in his stance, in the slight tension that appeared between the hunter's shoulders. "Since you ask so nicely, I'll give you the tests you need, "Van Helsing purred, his smile sweet as he watched the painful grimace that flickered over Jinette's face. "In return, I want a say in who 'assists' Carl. I don't want any of your damned Inquisitors anywhere near."

"Hmph, why does that not surprise me. That may be more difficult than you think," the prelate  
growled.

"Nonsense, you're well up in the food chain of this order you go on about. You do the telling, they do the listening. Keep your dogs at home, Jinette, and we'll get along fine. Maybe have a nice fire laid by your scribes and have your dogs lay out in front of it–rub their bellies, I'm sure you'd enjoy that."

Jinette's glare of outrage was a balm to Van Helsing's own stifled sense of devilment. He savored it like a rare wine, letting it fill his senses with pleasure.

"Is that all? No more 'requests'?" Jinette snarled, his hands clenching in his lap as Van Helsing  
appeared to actually consider the question before raising one finger as if in sudden recall.

"Ah...now that you mention it...there is just one other thing."

"Of course there is," both of Jinette's hands rose to scrub his face. "What? What now?" his  
growl was muffled, and since his eyes were covered, he failed to see Van Helsing's sudden grin at Carl.

"You mentioned I should be grateful to live in this fine palace. I think you're right, I'm not as  
grateful as I should be. I don't desire nor deserve to live here–so you'll arrange for separate housing for me, outside the Vatican."

"Eh? What! Separate housing? Out of the question!" the prelate's hands came down on the  
wooden arms of his chair with a loud thump. His dark eyes bulged from their sockets as they turned on the hunter with outraged incredulity.

"Ah ah ah," the hunter waggled his finger in the prelate's face. "Don't be so hasty. You move my  
quarters, I don't barge into your apartments any more. I'm happy–you're happy–everyone rests  
easier. And I don't have worry about waking up tied down again." The last was said without a  
trace of humor. "This is non-negotiable, Jinette. You want your tool happy and willing? Then  
bend on this."

The Cardinal rose from his chair in an explosive movement, pacing forward and back, his eyes  
darting back to Van Helsing then away. Carl could hear the crunch of parchment as the prelate trod on his precious antique documents without care. He hoped that Van Helsing fared better in this contest.

The hunter ignored Jinette, instead he pushed the clutter on the table to one side so that he could sit on the table edge, cross his ankles comfortably, and swing his legs.

Carl had given up trying to moderate Van Helsing's behavior. It was obvious to him now that the  
hunter had suffered some sort of mental lapse and was beyond the call of reason.

"You're so sure, aren't you, Van Helsing," Jinette muttered, casting yet another scowl toward his  
wayward tool. "So damned vexing, so damned positive that you hold all the cards to this little game you play. I wouldn't put up with this from anyone else you know. I'm not sure why I put up with it from you. You are not irreplaceable–in fact, you need us more than we need you."

The hunter simply shrugged, not bothering to look around. "Then replace me. Call your guards,  
have them drag me down to the dungeons and have your handlers deal with me."

"You think I won't?" Jinette snarled, striding to the table to stand before Van Helsing, so close Van Helsing's knees brushed his red robes.

"I know that you'd like to," the hunter conceded thoughtfully. "It galls you, your tool making  
demands on you..doesn't it. The great unlettered oaf you order about, that you send on your nasty little errands. I imagine it's hard not to pray that I end up dead, isn't it Jinette? It would be easier on you, I know. Probably easier on me, as well."

The Cardinal hesitated, obviously torn between heartily agreeing and denying Van Helsing could be right about him.

"The fact is...there is no other hunter, is there Jinette? You put up with me because I'm the only  
hunter you have. Wherever I came from, however inconvenient I am, I'm all you've got. Someone higher up in your 'Order' won't allow you to push me aside...will they. So you alternately placate and dominate me to keep me in my place." The hunter shrugged, one corner of his mouth turning up in an unconscious half smile. "We're stuck with one another, Jinette. As long as we have what the other wants. So...will you give me what I ask? Or will you wait until your mysterious 'higher up' tells you to do it."

The Cardinal bit his lip as he eyed the man before him before finally shrugging. "I can't promise  
anything Van Helsing. it. That's the best I can do, truly. Consider this though–this  
order has been in existence for hundreds of years. We have survived because we are willing to do what is necessary. And as a result, we...acquire...what is necessary to continue. You are here now, for that reason. Make of that what you will."

Van Helsing's eyes narrowed with confusion as he looked at the man standing before him. He knew he'd been given a valuable clue about the mysteries that plagued his memory, but it made no sense.

Jinette smiled for the first time, his hands coming forward to take Van Helsing's. Lifting them,  
Jinette turned the hands he held over, looking at the rough palms and long fingers. "Hmph...these  
are the hands of a murderer...and together they function as the Left Hand of God on earth. A  
difficult dichotomy–almost as difficult as you are, Gabriel. You might consider that you are not the only man caught in such an unpleasant dilemma."

Dropping Van Helsing's hands, Jinette unconsciously rubbed his own on his robes as he backed  
away. "Now, please...go with Carl to the lab below. You'll find the physician there. And you'll  
find an Inquisitor... Ah, ah! I know, tell him to come to me here."

Van Helsing wasn't satisfied, but he'd pushed the prelate as far as humanly possible. He suspected that Jinette had given him a trade off for the lodging he'd requested–for the moment anyway. The clue he'd been given made his hackles rise. Something, a barely recognized glimmer of something lay almost buried in his memory and the Cardinal's words were now making it slowly become clearer in a most unpleasant manner. Something to do with darkness, and pain, and the suffocating feeling of being trapped.

Shaking his head, Van Helsing slid from the table, and looked for the first time to Carl. The little  
friar was eyeing him with an endearing mixture of anxiety and concern. Carl did not have a  
dissembling bone in his body. Van Helsing could clearly see that the friar considered his friend far around the bend of sanity and yet he still cared. Van Helsing could not recall any faces from his past that he could call 'friend' before Carl had come to his life. At first, the friar had been uncomfortable around him–he'd called Van Helsing by his sir name for a long time. Probably he'd continued the practice as a matter of habit after their adventure in Transylvania. Then, one day, he'd simply started using Van Helsing's first name, and he'd never altered that habit. Van Helsing had never been sure what had prompted the change, but he'd been grateful for it when he realized it had signaled Carl's acceptance of him as a close friend.

Hmm, that thought recalled to mind the kiss they had shared earlier. Another milestone? Or just  
Carl's irrepressible need to know? Another mystery to consider. Later, though. Now, he and the  
friar had an unpleasant chore to attend to.

Clasping the friar's shoulder, he gave it a little shake. "Thank you for waiting, Carl. I suppose  
we'd best go meet with this physician and get this thing over with."

Gratefully, Carl nodded and led the way to the great doors as rapidly as possible, without actually breaking into a run. Once there, he made a perfunctory bow to Jinette, being sure he didn't make the mistake of catching his eye, and then turned to heave one of the doors open. Naturally, Jinette's scribes and the serving clerics were just outside. They were very careful not to meet either man's eyes as Carl and Van Helsing passed through them. After all, considering the uproar surrounding these two, it paid not to tempt fate.

Neither Carl nor Van Helsing spoke until they heard the great doors close behind them, leaving them alone in the relatively empty corridor.

They walked for a few more paces in silence before Van Helsing sighed, and stopped, turning to face Carl. Meeting the friar's eyes, the hunter's lips tugged upwards in a smile that bespoke of penitence.

"Thank you, Carl. I know that couldn't have been pleasant."

"Pleasant?" the blond man considered, tapping his lips with one finger before apparently making a decision. "No, not pleasant. Actually, I'd rank it right up there with having a bear bugger me silly."

"What!" Van Helsing's explosive snort made the few people passing by hurry a little faster.  
"Carl!"

"What? You don't think it's apt? I stood there and watched my best friend..."

"Best friend?" Van Helsing interrupted softly, surprised.

"Yes, of course!" Carl huffed, waving his hand in irritation. "Don't interrupt me just when I'm  
getting a good head of steam up. Now...oh yes...just when my best friend decides to take leave of his senses and demands that the personification-of-ill-humor-on-earth have him thrown into the dungeon and given over to the handlers. Oh, oh! And let's not forget the crack about rubbing  
bellies! Really Gabriel! You have the survival instincts of a suicidal lemming! You're as loopy as  
a fruit bat! You're six ants short of a hill..."

"I get the picture, Carl. No need to trot out the whole animal kingdom."

"Hmph, it probably wouldn't do you any good in any case. Let's just get these tests over with so we can go to my lab and lie low for a while."

"Works for me," Van Helsing agreed emphatically, and followed the friar down the corridor.

TBC


	4. Discovery and Disillusion 4 Test

Rating: PG13  
Pairing: Carl/Gabriel  
Series/Sequel: Part four  
Summary: Van Helsing undergoes the physical test for lycanthropy and Carl  
discovers what it's like to feel love.  
Warning: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing's time (which I feel are merited), the  
start of slash (in a loving relationship)  
Notes: I can't believe this is the 4th chapter. I hope you like it.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play  
Feedback: Love the idea, hate flames–be kind

* * *

**Lycanthropy**: The cause in the middle ages was believed to be the result of a curse, the bite of another werewolf, or the result of witchcraft, turning the victim into a familiar by means of  
possession. The tests necessary for discovering if the individual was a werewolf are accurately portrayed, in part, but not with the usual awful results for the person being tested. I wanted to make this chapter a little fluffier, a little more romantic–about time!

* * *

**Discovery and Disillusion-4**

The laboratory that Cardinal Jinette had set aside for Van Helsing's tests was isolated and apart  
from the main weapons labs. To be perfectly frank, it was dingy, dank, and made Carl want to run the other way. He couldn't imagine spending any time down here if it were at all possible to avoid it.

Van Helsing smiled at Carl's jitteriness. He agreed with the friar about this place–there was more  
'dungeon' than 'lab' to it. He found himself wondering if Jinette had chosen it for just that reason.  
He found his estimation of the old Cardinal begrudgingly going up as he skirted a noxious pool  
of...something.

The narrow corridor they followed eventually debouched into a large stone chamber, dimly lit with flickering torches. It was crowded with paraphernalia that neither man wanted to inspect too closely. No obvious instruments of torture, just lots of gleaming surgical instruments, chairs with restraints, and tables with gutters on them.

Carl swallowed queasily as he eyed the last and Van Helsing absently patted his back comfortingly before looking about for the good doctor.

At first he didn't notice the man because he didn't expect to find anyone willing to sleep in this hell hole. But a loud obnoxious snore drew their attention to a large chair set off to one side, covered in a tatty old grey blanket. The blanket covered a very large, rotund shape that was, at present, snoring magnificently.

They approached the chair quietly, looking about for the expected Inquisitor but not seeing him.  
Another nasty little surprise. Jinette had said he'd be here, so obviously he must be–standing in the shadows, watching them. Ugh.

The chair's occupant turned out to be a monk, obesely fat with round pink cheeks, ridiculously long eyelashes, and a snore like an erupting volcano. The man's tonsure gleamed up at them in the dim light from one end of him while his dirty sandaled feet peeked out at them from the other end.

"How can he sleep in a place like this?" Carl shuddered and Van Helsing shrugged.

"I suppose when you're asleep, it's not much different than anywhere else," he observed  
philosophically, ignoring Carl's snort of disbelief.

Gently, Van Helsing extended one finger and poked the sleeping monk in the ribs. His answer was a snort and renewed snoring that was, if anything, louder than before with an interesting burble at the end.

Snorting with laughter, Van Helsing gave the monk a good poke this time and was rewarded with a hitch in the snoring and a bright blue eye appearing in the round face. It surveyed them for several seconds, moving quite agilely about before its owner deigned to open his other eye. Once that was done, apparently the sleeper felt there was no going back to his previously blissful state because abruptly he sat up.

"Ah! You must be Carl and this must be the hunter Van Helsing. Such an honor, sirs! I don't get  
too many visitors down here, this is quite an occasion.

The monk's voice was squeaky, either from the dampness of the chamber or from nerves. It  
reminded Van Helsing of an excited rodent. Still, the man didn't appear in any way dangerous.

Quite the contrary. He appeared almost appallingly friendly.

Thrusting his blanket from him, the monk slid to the ground as the two men backed up. He was tall, almost Van Helsing's height if he stood straight. His pink face beamed at them with delight, his smile seeming to stretch from ear to ear.

"Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!" he exclaimed.

"What's wonderful?" Carl asked and had to duck back to avoid being swiped by the monk's  
expansive all-encompassing open-armed gesture.

"This! Having guests! Cardinal Jinette doesn't often send me guests...well, not live ones anyway!"

Van Helsing glanced about, comprehension dawning. "You usually work with the dead?"

"Yes, usually. I've done some fascinating work with some of the creatures you fight," he admitted, smiling at Van Helsing with a professional's pride. "My expertise is actually werewolves."

"Ah, the other shoe drops," the hunter sighed with a glance at Carl who could only shrug. He had never met this monk, but he found himself curious to hear what the fellow had discovered in his gruesome studies. Possibly, he might have found something that could be used in Carl's own work.

"Uh...you know...the Cardinal didn't really share much with us," Carl began, smiling ingratiatingly (a little buttering up never went amiss among professionals). "I'm afraid he didn't give us your name..."

"Oh! My apologies. My name is Brother Benerd."

"Benerd...unusual name," Carl smiled.

The monk smiled back, evidently pleased with the compliment. Van Helsing stifled a sigh. He  
appreciated the brother's unexpectedly friendly disposition and no doubt the monk and Carl would have a great deal to talk about later. But for now, the hunter had other things on his mind.

"Brother..." he interrupted, pausing to smile bemusedly as the monk positively beamed at him.  
"Er...the Cardinal said there would be an Inquisitor here with you..."

"Oh...Brother Reynaldo. Yes...he's here...or..he was..." The monk turned about in place, scanning the gloomy chamber. "Brother Reynaldo? Our guests are here. Brother...oh! There you are."

The monk's ebullient greeting didn't make the appearance of the Inquisitor any less threatening. If the monk was unexpected in his jollity, the Inquisitor was everything Van Helsing had learned to expect. Medium height, pale, dark eyes, a straight mouth that held no joy. The black and white habit of a mendicant friar of the Dominican order was austere and scrupulously clean, a rarity in the notably lax cleanliness of the area they found themselves in.

Carl had to restrain the urge to cross himself, instead falling back to stand next to Van Helsing,  
brushing his arm with his own. He always felt safer next to the hunter and he found himself very  
glad he wasn't here by himself now.

The hunter's eyes were dark and calm as he watched the Dominican approach. He could feel the man, even before he could see him properly in the gloom. There was a coldness to him, a pitiless void in him that made the hairs on Van Helsing's neck rise and a growl reverberate in his chest. He made certain that he restrained the noise–he did not want to give anything away to this dog of the church.

The Inquisitor paid no attention to Carl or to the monk. His eyes remained fixed to Van Helsing in a manner that was both insulting and distinctly threatening. When he drew close, he spoke at last, his voice a deep grating growl in counterpoint to the monk's excited squeak.

"Ah..the monster slayer. I have heard of you, but I had not had the opportunity to lay eyes on you before. Your countenance is at odds with your name–dark, intense, a hunter of evil. The archangel Gabriel is looked upon as the angel of consolation and mercy–you do not appear to have these traits in your mein, though you are pleasant enough to look upon. Tell me, slayer, you come in contact every day with evil–do you not fear it will mark you one day?"

"No more than you, I'd imagine," Van Helsing's voice had none of its usual inflections. "He  
gestured with a thumb jerked upwards. "Cardinal Jinette asked me to relay his message to you,"  
Van Helsing's mouth quirked in a small smile before continuing. "–you are to go to him upstairs.  
You won't be needed for these tests."

Reynaldo canted his head to one side, managing to convey an impression of disappointment though his facial expression had not changed at all.

"That is a shame. I had looked forward to being a part of your testing. As it is, I shall have to look forward to meeting you again sometime, when we may talk at length undisturbed."

The hunter made no reply and faced with his silence, the Inquisitor bowed and left the 3 men alone in the dank chamber.

Carl waited until he was sure the man was gone before heaving a gusty sigh of relief. "What a  
thoroughly disagreeable man! He seems the sort to enjoy his work rather too well!"

Benerd smiled and shrugged. "Aye, he's a quiet one usually. Your friend here got more out of him than I was able to the entire time he was here."

"How long was he here?" Van Helsing asked.

"Oh, most of the morning. I tried to talk with him, you know, to make the time go by easier. I must admit, he made me nervous staying in the shadows, watching without speaking."

"I can imagine," Carl shuddered with sympathy before turning to Van Helsing. "I think it would be a very good idea to try not to spend too much time with that man, Gabriel. He obviously has an agenda, and I didn't care for his remarking on your being pleasant to look at."

The dark man smiled for the first time since the Inquisitor's departure, it lit up his eyes as he looked down at the small friar with fondness.

"I shall take your advice to heart, Carl. Now, I suppose we had better get on with these 'tests'."

"Yes! You're right. What do they entail, Benerd?" Carl asked eagerly, unconsciously shoving his  
sleeves up to his elbows.

"They're quite simple, actually!" Eagerly, the monk grasped Van Helsing's arms and pulled him  
over to one of the chairs. The hunter eyed the restraints rimming the chair with reluctance which the friar was quick to pick up.

"Benerd, those restraints–they won't be needed will they?"

"No...I shouldn't think so," the monk seemed surprised at the question. Remembering that he didn't usually have patients that walked in of their own accord, Van Helsing could well believe that this was an unusual question for him.

"Now, I need you to remove your upper body coverings," the monk practically bounced as he turned to wheel a small table with instruments to the side of the chair.

Van Helsing's dark eyebrows took a dip at the thought of being half naked in the cold chamber, but he proceeded to strip down as requested, handing his things to Carl to dispose of. Once he pulled his sweater over his head, he was struck again by the damp chill and fervently hoped whatever tests the monk had in mind could be accomplished as quickly as possible.

Benerd turned from his instrument tray to face the hunter again and stopped dead in his tracks, his blue eyes growing large and round. "Oh my! You are a big one aren't you!"

Van Helsing resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest, but the look he shot at Carl when he heard a strangled snigger promised dire retribution later.

It took some doing, but he allowed the monk to grasp his arms again and push him down into the chair. He couldn't keep the frown from his eyes and mouth though as the monk guided his wrists into the clamps on the chair arms tho he didn't close them.

"There. Comfy?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh...well, it won't be long. Now, we'll begin the physical examination for signs of lycanthropy."

Carl had returned from placing Van Helsing's clothing on the chair that had previously served as  
Benerd's bed. Now he looked to the monk for instructions. He noticed the monk seemed very  
happy with his "live" specimen. He kept up an almost constant stream of squeaks, giggles, and  
mutterings to himself that seemed to be confusing the hell out of the man seated in the chair. Carl  
couldn't blame Van Helsing. After the incident earlier this morning, those clamps had a very  
unpleasant look to them. Coupling with the hunter's dislike of being physically touched and  
Benerd's apparent appreciation for the way Van Helsing looked, he found it very difficult not to  
laugh. He knew the monk wasn't attempting to flirt, he just could not resist cooing over his first live toy.

The first thing to be examined was Van Helsing's hands. Benerd explained that werewolves, while in human form, frequently had longer ring fingers than were normal. Also, the nails were often red or pink tinged, stronger than normal, and curving. As he handled Van Helsing's hands, measuring his fingers and testing the strength of the nails, Carl was strongly reminded of the way Jinette had held Van Helsings' hands earlier. Evidently the hunter remembered as well, judging by the frown lines between his eyes.

"Hmmm, lovely lovely hands! Nice long fingers, strong capable palms, good solid wrists. Not  
hairy, no sign of toughening of the skin or the pads of the fingers."

Carl's thoughts on the hand he examined were somewhat different. He remembered those hands  
holding him, supporting him as Gabriel's warm moist mouth explored his. The taste of those lips,  
made Carl's toes curl and an interesting little bolt of what felt like electricity jolted between his legs. Oh my...

Gradually, he became aware of the fact that Benerd had moved on to Van Helsing's arms and  
shoulders while he was still holding his friend's hand and apparently stroking it. Dropping it hastily, he risked a peek at Van Helsing's face and was rewarded with an amused smirk that made a blush flame over his face. The idea that the man knew exactly what Carl had been thinking about was not a pleasant thought. It was one thing to be obvious by design, quite another to be caught mooning over his hand like that...

Benerd saved Carl from any further embarrassment by inadvertently placing Van Helsing on the hot seat. Apparently, the monk's examination had now reached the hunter's chest and Van Helsing was already squirming.

"Really very nice! Lovely muscular development, quite exceptional. Not overly hairy, the hair is  
not overly long or brittle."

Carl had to drop back behind the chair to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing out loud as Benerd ran his hands over Van Helsing's chest like he was stroking a cat.  
"The nipples appear to be normal, not elongated or toughened, and there are only two...OUCH!"

The unmistakable sound of a hand being slapped resounded through the room and the monk drew back clutching his injured digit to his chest with a look of utter surprise.

"I...I...I was just..."

"You were just going too far. You can make your observations without pinching."

"Oh God!" Carl moaned and snorted so hard around his fist his ears popped. The petulant, sulky, embarrassment in Van Helsing's voice was so unlike him–these sorts of things never happened to Gabriel, only to Carl (usually).

Evidently Van Helsing heard his snort, because the next thing he knew, Van Helsing's long arm was reaching back and pulling him around to stand beside the chair. The hazel eyes fixed on his warned of extreme displeasure if he let the laugh bubbling inside him get away.

"Any more touching needs to be done–Carl will do it. You tell him what to do. And please! Stop commenting about the way I look, this is hard enough!"

"Oh God," Carl prayed fervently. "Please don't let me rupture myself trying not to laugh before this is over!"

Benerd looked disappointed in being denied the opportunity to play with his specimen any longer, but accepted the necessary evil of having to go through Carl with good grace.

"Very well. If it must be so. I really didn't mean..."

"I know. Just, please, tell Carl what needs to be done," the fearless Vampire Hunter begged.

"Well, I was examining the chest area."

Carl nodded, and turned to his friend, only to suddenly freeze, blinking. He was supposed to touch Gabriel? Like that? In front of Benerd? He couldn't do it! He'd gone all funny just touching Van Helsing's hand–how was he supposed to stroke his chest like the monk had been doing?

"Carl," Van Helsing touched, then held Carl's hand, rubbing his thumb over the palm. "You can do this. Please..."

Van Helsing had never begged him before for anything. It was so unexpectedly sweet...

Clearing his throat, Carl nodded briskly. He steeled himself, and narrowly avoided closing his eyes as he freed his hand from Van Helsing's and placed it on his chest. Oh my... Van Helsing's skin was so warm, why hadn't he expected that? He could remember how warm it had been this  
morning...

"The skin should not be coarse or rough," Benerd's voice gradually insinuated itself into Carl's  
thoughts drawing him away from the warm pleasant place he found himself in. His hands began to move of their own accord over Van Helsing's chest, touching the skin through the mist of hair,  
stroking it.

"Yes...yes, er, it ," Carl coughed abruptly as he heard a telltale squeak in his voice.

"Wolf hair is often tri-colored, you'll need to cut some from his chest for closer examination."  
Scissors made their way into his hands and Carl blinked as he felt their cold weight. Cut Gabriel's hair? There?

"Here, I'll do it," Van Helsing gently pulled the scissors from Carl's nerveless fingers and quickly  
snipped some hair away. He handed both scissors and hair to Benerd, who seemed lost in the  
possibility of immediately examining his samples. He had to be pulled up short by Van Helsing,  
who demanded they finish the physical examination now–Benerd could sigh over his samples later.

Carl only dimly heard their voices. His hands were still on Van Helsing's chest, still immersed in  
the warmth and softness, and he felt an odd detached wish slowly surface–he wished that he were sitting in that chair and Gabriel's large hands were on his chest, touching, stroking...letting him feel safe and cared for...

"Carl?" One of Gabriel's hands was touching his now, covering it, squeezing gently. "Benerd says we're almost done. Just a little more."

The friar nodded, pulling himself together to stand straighter, moving his hands to the arm of the  
chair to touch and hold Gabriel's arm. "What's next?" he asked, and was relieved his voice was  
perfectly normal. He felt more than saw Gabriel smile and couldn't resist feeling a tinge of foolish  
pride in his self-mastery.

"Yes, I'm afraid we are almost done," Benerd sighed. "Just the eyes, mouth and feet left."

"Eyes, mouth and ... feet?" Carl closed his eyes. The mouth. Oh Lord. It had to be that.

He barely remembered moving to the top of the chair, standing by Van Helsing's head, his eyes  
captured by the hazel gaze, seeing the look of humor and encouragement there.

"The eyes should be normal in appearance, the pupils in proportion," Benerd instructed, as he leaned forward peering over Carl's shoulder. Van Helsing sighed and fixed his gaze on the monk's, making the man sigh happily.

"Perfect, nothing wrong there," Benerd smiled. "Now, the mouth...open please."

Carl leaned forward with the monk as the Hunter reluctantly opened his mouth,  
"The canines look normal, the gums are a normal color. Carl, please touch his tongue to see if it's rough."

"WHAT!" Carl's shout of dismay reverberated over and over again. He could see Van Helsing  
wince and a flush of color mantled his cheeks.

The monk immediately backed up, clutching his hands together at chest height. He looked from one to the other man, shrugging so rapidly that he looked as if he were having a seizure.

"The...t.t.t.tongue...in a canine...rough..you know?"

"Yes I know! But, really! He's passed every other test–is this really necessary? He's not a  
cadaver, Benerd, I can't just put my hand in his mouth like that!"

"Carl..do it."

The soft voice of his friend silenced the friar unlike shouting or protests which would only have  
made him dig his heels in harder. He turned to the seated man again, shaking his head.

"Gabriel, I can't."

"If you don't Benerd will have to. I'd like to avoid that." The hunter smiled self-deprecatingly, "I  
promise not to bite. Well, maybe only nibble..."

Carl shuddered, his eyes closing in spite of himself. He could feel the tightening between his legs,  
the lovely rush of heat warming his belly. He found himself devoutly wishing he'd never kissed Van Helsing because then he wouldn't know how his tongue felt, wouldn't feel his body respond to touching it now.

"Alright," he sighed, opening his eyes, he positioned himself at the top of the chair again. He made sure that he blocked Benerd's view this time, if they were going to do this he wanted no one watching them.

Van Helsing opened his mouth, closing his eyes. Carl could feel the man tense and couldn't help but sympathize. Carefully, gently, reverently, Carl's fingers stroked Van Helsing's lips and marveled at the soft fullness. How could touching another man be so erotic? He found himself deeply grateful that Reynaldo had been forced to leave earlier as his fingers slipped inside the warm wet mouth and stroked Gabriel's tongue. It moved beneath his fingers, lapping at them. When he gasped, Gabriel's lips closed about his fingers, sucking them strongly. He wanted to move inside that mouth, to push further in and enjoy the wet heat. Watching Gabriel suck on his fingers made Carl's knees feel weak and his skin tingled as if with an electric current. Very slowly, he pulled his fingers from Gabriel's mouth, his own mouth falling open as he watched his fingers emerge slick and rosey. When only the tips of his fingers remained inside Gabriel's mouth, he felt the sharp nip of Gabriel's teeth.

It was the most sensuous thing he'd ever experienced and the most difficult thing he'd ever done to pull his hand away and step back. He was breathing so hard he felt as if he were panting. The  
formerly gentle heat between his legs was now a burning ache and he blessed his robes for hiding what had to be the mother of all erections. He was hard and burning for Gabriel.

The hunter's eyes had opened and were watching his; Gabriel's hand now held his, his thumb  
stroking his fingers, smoothing the moisture from his mouth over Carl's skin so that it tingled in the chill air.

"Are you alright?" he murmured and smiled when Carl took a deep breath then shook his head.

"No. Not alright. But I will be. A...Are we done?"

"The tongue?" Benerd asked, his squeaky voice hesitant and unsure. He sensed that Carl was  
unsettled and had the grace to be hesitant about pushing. Carl appreciated his uncharacteristic  
sensitivity and smiled at the monk.

"Wet, soft, normal," he sighed, and shrugged. "At least as normal as any other man's tongue I've  
ever touched."

Van Helsing snorted and pinched Carl's arm, releasing him. Benerd smiled, a little uncertainly, but carried on. "That only leaves the feet. They should not be hairy, should have normal nails, and good color without undue roughening or the formation of pads."

"Right. Feet, I can do," Carl moved to the foot of the chair and proceeded to unlace Van Helsing's boots. "Don't expect a massage out of this, " he warned with mock fierceness and Van Helsing smiled.

"I wouldn't dare," he promised sincerely.

The foot inspection went quickly, the only unexpected discovery was that Van Helsing's feet were very ticklish and Carl had a heretofore unsuspected sadistic streak in him. The sounds of Van Helsing laughing and begging him to stop, trying to pull his feet away enough to climb out of the chair had even Benerd laughing unrestrainedly.

Carl enjoyed himself immensely, only allowing Van Helsing to escape after he'd begged steadily for several minutes.

Chest heaving, flushed red with laughter, the vampire slayer had at last come at Carl over the foot of the chair, pinning his arms to his sides and hugging him close. He squeezed the friar until he squeaked and then ruffled his hair until it stood on end.

Carl felt as if he were in heaven, he reveled in the closeness and the warmth and felt loved. In the most unlikely place, in the most unexpected way, Carl felt loved.

TBC


	5. Discovery and Disillusion 5

Rating: PG13  
Pairing: Carl/Gabriel  
Series/Sequel: Part five  
Summary: The second part of the test begins–a short chapter, but a longer one is on the way  
Warning: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing's time (which I feel are merited),  
the start of slash (in a loving relationship)  
Notes: Whoo Hoo! 5th chapter! I hope you like it.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play 

Feedback: Love the idea, hate flames–be kind. Very special thanks to my reviewers:  
_Komikitty, Queen-of-Demon-Dragons, Verona Dracula, Alpha27, Raphe1_

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**Inquisition**: Victims of the Inquisition came from all ages and both sexes. From 1160-1560, the  
Inquisition systematically persecuted a people of the Italian Alps called the Waldenses, brutalizing and murdering them ending with an entire culture almost completely destroyed and their culture wiped from the face of the earth. This type of thing was repeated for hundreds of years all over Europe and England and eventually in South America, Mexico, the Philippines, and wherever Rome ruled. The name Inquisition is derived from the Latin verb inquiro (inquire into). The Inquisitors did not wait for complaints, but sought out persons accused of heresy. The result of being accused was a guarantee of excrutiating torture and almost certain death.

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**Discovery and Disillusion-5  
**  
They left Benerd happily starting his testing on the samples and data he'd gathered from the  
examination. Carl had been tempted to remain so that he could see what the monk's analysis entailed, but had changed his mind when he realized Van Helsing didn't plan to stay. Despite the enjoyable time the friar had with the monk and hunter, he still could not get over his instinctual dislike of the chamber itself.

Van Helsing had pulled his sweater and vest back on with every indication of luxuriating in their warmth.

Chuckling at the uncharacteristic smile of pleasure on the hunter's face, Carl gathered up his coat  
and hat. He had to shift his grip on the coat when he found it unexpectedly heavy.

"Do you carry your weapons around everywhere?" he murmured, amazed as he felt the bulk of  
the silver sword, the sharp edges of the tojos, daggers, a brace of pistols, a silver stake and a plethora of other unpleasantries that he blushed to realize had come from his own lab.

Van Helsing shrugged, reaching for the coat only to have Carl pull it away. "No, no," the friar  
smiled happily. "I'll carry it–after all, if I ask you to carry this around in battle, the least I can do is carry it down the hall."

"If you say so," Van Helsing winced skeptically as he watched the friar huff and puff under the weight, awkwardly juggling his burden to keep from dropping anything.

Calling goodbye to the monk, even though he was perfectly sure the man wasn't even aware of them any longer, Carl led the way out of the chamber with relief. "That wasn't so bad," he panted, smiling up at the other man.

"Hmm, no. Not bad, but I don't think I'd care to do it again. Brother Benerd needs to spend a little more time with the living. His exuberance is intimidating."

"Intimidating? You?" Carl scoffed, laughing aloud when Van Helsing shivered.

"You weren't the one in the chair," the hunter grumbled, then surreptitiously rubbed his chest. "I  
think he tried to take a sample the hard way."

"Sore nipples? Well he was taken with you, you know."

"Not with me," the hunter scowled quellingly at the friar, "with the chance to work on anything  
that would listen to him talk. I imagine he'd have been just as happy working on you. Maybe I should suggest it to him?"

"Oh, nononono, that's all right. No point in that!" Carl hastened to propitiate the hunter, then  
cursed as the heavy coat shifted and he had to scramble to recollect his burden.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry that? I am used to it," the hunter wheedled.

"No, I've got it. I think. Probably...oh damn!"

"What? Did you throw your back out?"

The look the friar bequeathed his friend was an eloquent answer. "No, snippy. I don't think I have your hat. Did it fall while we were walking?"

As Carl turned about in a rapid circle hoping to spot the hat, Van Helsing took pity on him. Gently, he stopped the little friar's rotations, turned the friar back on their original heading and gave him a gentle push. "Go on, we're almost to the weapons lab. I'll go back and look. I'll meet you in your lab."

Gratefully, Carl gasped his thanks and continued his staggering progress down the hallway.

Van Helsing shook his head as he watched his friend, marveling in the stubborn friar's persistence. If Carl could harness his own energy in one of his machines, the thing could probably take out a small village in one go.

Turning back, Van Helsing hurried down the corridor. They'd come quite far, he confidently  
expected to see his hat almost immediately, but found that not to be the case. He'd made it all the way back to the narrow alcove that led to Benerd's lab without spotting it and he wasn't pleased about having to search for the item in the dim chamber. He only hoped the monk was still lost in his samples and wouldn't notice his subject's return.

The lab was mercifully quiet as he entered it, his eyes fixed on the chair where Carl had laid his  
things earlier. As he approached it, he saw the missing hat lying on the floor at the foot of the chair. A quick snatch and he would be able to make his escape.

He'd taken a half dozen steps into the dank dimness when he felt the cold. Cloying, dark, the smell of fear clung to it. A rumbling growl vibrated in his chest–it was the scent he had learned to  
associate with the Inquisition.

Immediately, the hunter came to a halt, his eyes tracking the gloomy room, peering into the  
wavering shadows as he opened his senses to them. He could feel it now, the presence of many in the seemingly empty room, and he cursed himself for being so distracted by his earlier silly mood that he hadn't realized the trap laid for him before walking into it.

Slowly backing away, intent on putting his back to a wall, Van Helsing's eyes narrowed as he saw the shadows he watched come alive. Benerd, in the hands of a dark hulking man he recognized as one of the Vatican's handlers, emerged and was pushed to one side. The monk was sweaty and pale, and even from across the room, Van Helsing could smell the fear rank and sour on him. He felt the hair on his body rise with the scent, his eyes snapped to the shadows nearest his position and felt the growl rumble again in his chest as two more handlers emerged, followed by Reynaldo, clapping softly.

"Very good, Van Helsing. You knew we were here...you sensed it, didn't you?"

Van Helsing jerked his chin at the first handler who was slowly approaching him. "Actually, it was your whiffy friend over there. If you're going to sneak up on someone, it would help if you'd take the edge off the stink first."

The Dominican shrugged. "One cannot always have the pick of the lot, hunter. Andrew is quite  
good at what he does, so I tend to close my eyes when confronted with his more unfortunate  
aspects."

"I don't blame you," Van Helsing growled as he eyed the approaching man, "the smell of him  
makes my eyes water. I take it he and all his friends are here to take me into custody?"

"Yes. Brother Benerd has completed his tests, and now it is time for ours."

"Ah, of course. I thought it had all been too easy," Van Helsing sighed. "No blood, no screaming, hardly seemed like a church-sanctioned test."

A small cold smile wisped across the Inquisitor's mouth, but never lit his dark eyes. With a gesture, he indicated the approaching handlers. "They will take you into custody. I suggest you don't fight them, they're quite skilled, however badly they might smell."

"Yes, I imagine they would be," Van Helsing sighed. Looking past the first handler, he caught  
Benerd's eyes. The monk's blue eyes were filled with fear and grief, Van Helsing wondered if it  
was for himself or the hunter. Holding Benerd's gaze, he smiled and received a tentative,  
commiserating smile in return. Now that he had the monk's attention, Van Helsing's gaze flicked to the chair he'd sat in earlier, then back to Benerd, raising his eyebrows. The monk blinked several times, then his mouth fell open in an "O" before snapping shut. Nodding slightly, he fell back into the shadows.

In the time Van Helsing had spent silently conversing with Benerd, the handlers had gotten much  
closer; his smelly friend was in the lead, smiling at him to reveal a surprisingly white set of teeth.

"Don't struggle," he murmured in what the hunter assumed was meant to be a coaxing tone. "We won't hurt you unless you make us. Just come easy."

Van Helsing's answering smile was dark with a feral quality. "Is that what you say to all your prey? Does it usually work?"

The handler's smile widened as he shrugged. "Not usually, but there's always a first time."

"Forgive me if I'm not thrilled at the idea of being your first," Van Helsing growled as his back  
touched a wall. His slow retreat had drawn all four men after him; dimly, he saw a flash of  
movement and inwardly smiled as Benerd disappeared out of the door at a run. Now, if the monk could just find Carl.

When the first handler reached for his arm, Van Helsing easily stepped to the side, caught the arm and brought it down backward over his hip, feeling the joint dislocate at the elbow. The sound of the man's howling cries and curses echoed as the other two handlers jumped him.

They were strong, and apparently quite used to fighting with their quarry without remorse. While  
one attempted to choke him into submission, the other kneed him hard in the crotch. Stars exploded in Van Helsing's vision as a sickening pain spread through his body, making him drop to his knees.

Snarling, he punched blindly forward and was rewarded when he impacted the source of the worst of the stink surrounding him. The second handler dropped like a stone, his hands clutching his genitals as he moaned pitifully.

That left the third handler and Reynaldo. The third handler had managed to retain his lock around Van Helsing's neck and was now tightening it with a vengeance. His face was buried in the hunter's hair and Van Helsing could hear a steady stream of curses from the handler as drool splattering from the man's mouth ran down his jaw and neck. The pressure around his neck was too tight, he couldn't breathe. Falling back against the handler, Van Helsing drove both of his elbows back into the man's body with all of his strength. He heard the "whoosh" of air and immediately snapped forward, ducking his head as the heavy body surged over him. At the last second, he caught at the fellow's head and slammed it down against the dirty stone floor.

Van Helsing barely had time to register a movement to his side when a heavy object smashed into his temple, sending him sprawling face down at the feet of the Inquisitor.

Panting heavily, Andrew dropped the metal bar with a clang as he approached the hunter and Reynaldo. With a grunt, mindful of his dislocated arm, he leaned down to partially haul Van Helsing's limp body up from the floor by the back of his vest.

Hanging from Andrew's clenched fist, head lolling, the vampire slayer wasn't aware of Reynaldo  
lifting his head by the hair to peer into his face. Blood from the wound on his temple coursed down Van Helsing's face to drip to the floor in a dark puddle. Touching his fingers to the crimson wound, the Inquisitor raised his hand to the flickering lights to regard it thoughtfully as he rubbed the blood between his fingers.

"Has this ever happened before?" he spoke cryptically, but Andrew was used to that and prepared.

"No sir," he growled. "Maybe with only two of us, but no one's ever put down three. Not  
unarmed."

"Hmm, so his strength, as suspected, is unnatural. Whether from werewolf or vampire taint is  
something we will need to discover. Stir the others, we need to move him quickly. The monk is  
gone, it's a fair assumption he'll be back with interference."

Grunting his understanding, Andrew dropped the hunter at the Inquisitor's feet to turn to the other handlers.

As he stood waiting, the Inquisitor crouched down to push the tangled hair from Van Helsing's face. "You do not have the aspect of an angel, no matter what they say of your origins," he murmured to the unconscious man; his fingers traced Van Helsing's cheek then moved down over his lips smearing them with blood. "But you are pleasant to look upon. It will be a pleasure to discover all there is to know about you."

TBC


	6. Discovery and Disillusion 6

Rating: PG13  
Pairing: Carl/Gabriel  
Series/Sequel: Part Six-"Cliffie, but will be resolved in 7  
Summary: Gabriel is taken by the Inquisition and Carl must find a way to rescue him  
Warning: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing's time (which I feel are merited), the  
start of slash (in a loving relationship)

Notes: I don't like this chapter. I don't like what must happen to further the story and can  
only promise that I will try to keep it as short as possible. I love Gabriel and Carl and  
promise not to allow serious whumping to occur!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play

**_Feedback: _**For all of you who followed the past stories, I hope that you find this story equally as interesting if not more so! Your reviews and suggestions are, as always, deeply appreciated! Due to Fanfiction rules I am unable to thank you in depth but I would like to say thanks to reviewers _**Fluffy Vampire, **__**Jania, **__**Verona Dracula, **__**KomiKitty, **__**Queen of DemonDragons, **__**Pineapple Ice**_

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**Fear:** It is a known fact that warfare, either blatant or covert, relies not only on superiority of weapons but also on the manipulation of the enemy's senses, fears, and personal vulnerabilities. To break the enemy, you must not only break his will to resist, but also his will to live.

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**Discovery and Disillusion 6**

Carl happily pottered about his work table, at home and at peace with his life once again. It had all turned out well, for a change! His cup, apparently, was running over with blessings and he was not one to ignore good fate! On an after-thought (but no less genuine!), he crossed himself and directed a smile heavenward. Best to get the thanks in pronto, before someone started getting ideas that he wasn't deserving!

He was working on a new invention-"one that promised to make even Gabriel speechless. That wasn't to say, of course, that the hunter didn't give Carl his due. On the contrary, he was most appreciative. But there was always the slightest hint of ho-hum in his appreciation. Obviously, miracles were something he expected from the friar. All well and good, of course, but an inventor needed and thrived on a good solid gasp of amazement-just every now and then!

This new item was the end-all, be-all of inventions. His best yet! It was a gas-cannister gun that set into motion and then fired multiple spinning tojos. It was deadly, Carl had the opportunity to test it quite by accident and could vouch that it all but destroyed whatever it was aimed at. The damage had been quite impressive-"and not entirely his fault, actually. Time and again he'd asked for a separate lab. His attention could only be divided so far and that last little problem with the tojo-gun had been a direct cause of too much going on in his area. But the Cardinal was willing to overlook it, thank goodness. Now the gun was almost ready. He'd installed a new device which the Cardinal had suggested-"a 'safety lock' that would make sure the weapon could not be fired while the lock was engaged. A neat little thing that Carl was quite pleased with.

Polishing the barrel of the gun, Carl allowed himself a moment of sinful pride at the mental image of Gabriel's amazed smile when he held the gun, stroking it with his warm hands, pressing it to his cheek to sight it...

Thinking of Gabriel's pleasure with the new weapon made Carl's smile lose some of its pride and become more soft and thoughtful. He hadn't expected his friend to react the way he had to the kiss earlier. He'd thought that maybe Gabriel might just chide him on being too curious, perhaps warn him about being careful who he was curious with in the future. But to return the kiss...it hadn't been in Carl's wildest expectations. The little friar licked his lips as he remembered the sensation of the hunter's mouth on his. It had been soft...and assured. Not possessive (more's the pity), but definitely commanding his full attention and participation. Gabriel would never allow anyone he was kissing to be thinking of anything else but Gabriel. He had given everything to Carl in that kiss, all of the tenderness and softness and kindness that Carl had ever dreamed of or hoped for in a friend or lover.

'Lover'? Abruptly, Carl sat down in a heap on a, thankfully, empty stool. 'Lover'? Since when had he ever thought of Gabriel as a lover? As a source of wonder, maybe? Curiosity-definitely. Admiration-of course. A few fantasies-"if he were confessing and the Cardinal were no where in the vicinity, then yes, naturally. But 'lover'...that was a word that he hadn't even admitted into his conscious mind. Now, looking at it, Carl blushed to realize he was intrigued. The kiss had been fantastic. Easily the best he'd ever had. And the whole sucking-the-finger-thing in Benerd's lab...well, Carl had to admit it was the most...er...well, _erotic _thing he'd had the pleasure of experiencing in quite a while! It opened up such a wide variety of images in his mind...things that he felt awkward and hot all over just thinking about. It made him blush even more to realize he was thinking about it while in a crowded room full of rabbis, monks, friars, and assorted sundries that had, without a doubt, never experienced the finger-sucking-thing and wouldn't understand it if they had!

Fanning himself vigorously, Carl quickly cast his gaze about the room to make sure no one was watching him. Obviously, they wouldn't know what he was thinking even if they did catch him blushing. But the feelings he was experiencing were just so enormous and so sinfully delightful that he couldn't imagine them not guessing. Surely the fact that he'd just immensely enjoyed a finger-sucking moment with the Vatican's hunter had to show on his face!

Just as abruptly as he'd sat down, Carl launched himself to his feet. He had to get back to work. To busy himself with his work until Gabriel came and they could leave for a more private locale where they could talk...yes, talk. Gabriel would smile at his new weapon, and he'd smile at Carl. And Carl could smile back and think about the finger-thing without having everyone in the room know about it.

Shaking his head at his own convoluted thinking, the friar turned back to his latest invention, thereby missing the entrance of Benerd. Fortunately, the monk saw Carl almost immediately and ran to him as fast as his legs could carry his considerable bulk.

"Carl! Carl!"

Jumping at the explosion of his name in his ear, Carl whirled, then neatly sidestepped the monk as Benerd barreled into the lab table. The monk was red faced and panting for breath so hard he was almost unintelligible as he began to gabble at top speed. Carl tried to understand but gave it up after the first dozen words.

"Benerd, slow down! Sit! Sit down and catch your breath, I can't understand a word you're saying!"

Shoving the monk down on a stool, he snatched up a schematic from the table and began to fan the monk so hard the fellow's hair flew around his head. Benerd seemed to appreciate the cooling air as he sat holding his chest and gasping. As soon as he could spare breath for talking, he waved his hand, thrusting down the waving parchment to meet Carl's startled blue eyes.

"Carl!"

"What!"

"The...the..."

"The...the...what!"

"The Inquisitors...they have...Van Helsing!"

"What!" Carl cried, not caring that all eyes in the room were now locked on the monk and friar. "No! That's not possible. The Cardinal called off the Inquisitors, remember? He just wanted Gabriel to submit to some simple tests..."

"Yes! My tests! And apparently the Inquisition's! Reynaldo came back to my lab with three handlers. They asked about Van Helsing, what had been done, how long ago he'd left, what I had discovered. I told them nothing of course because I hadn't had an opportunity to analyze my samples yet..."

"Yes yes! But you said they had Gabriel. How?"

"He came back...to my lab..."

Carl groaned. Slapping his hand to his forehead, he turned away from the monk to lean heavily on the lab table. Gabriel had gone back for his hat. The hat that Carl had dropped and sent him off to find. If Carl hadn't dropped it... It was all his fault that Gabriel was now in the hands of the Inquisition.

"Carl, he held their attention while I got away. I didn't see them actually take him, but they must have. They made it very clear that's what they were there for."

Nodding, the friar scrubbed his hands over his face as he thought about what to do next. Obviously, rushing to Gabriel would not help the hunter, probably the reverse. Carl needed to think logically, to plan an effective rescue.

Grimacing, the friar pounded his forehead with the heel of his hand. He couldn't think clearly! All he could do was feel helpless and afraid. He was the 'other one', the partner who stood to one side and handed weapons to the hunter. Gabriel was the larger-than-life hero, he was just a...just a...what?

A friar. A friar who had been sitting cross-eyed over kissing his best friend while Gabriel was taken into custody.

Carl shook his head, then forced himself to stand up straight and meet Benerd's wide worried eyes.

"We have to go to the Cardinal," he snapped as he wrestled to tear off his lab apron. It came off with a rip, but he didn't care. Grabbing the monk by the front of his robes, Carl hauled on him until the man heaved himself upright. "We're going right now. Cardinal Jinette must not know that the Inquisition has flouted his orders. You'll see, he'll set this to right pronto!"

Caught up in Carl's fire, the monk hastened after the marching friar, leaving the hot smokey lab behind for the blessedly cooler corridors. Carl allowed nothing to deter or sway him from his determination. He had a good idea where the Cardinal would beâ€"in his offices. At this time of day he was fond of a cup of tea as he looked over his correspondence, Carl knew this because he'd often been called on the carpet...er..called to _converse _with the Cardinal at this time. Carl thanked his lucky stars for his checkered history with the Cardinal now, because he knew how to get to the offices and how to get himself admitted with minimal fuss.

Despite having to haul the wheezing exhausted Benerd after him, Carl made good time to his destination. He'd briefed Benerd on how to act so the monk was prepared when Carl abruptly slowed down, thrust his hands in his sleeves, lowered his head in hang-dog fashion, and shuffled up to the guards outside the office doors. The men smirked at each other, not even questioning the friar or his companion as they were admitted into the first office.

Jinette's secretary, Marcus, was there as expected.

"Carl. I wasn't expecting you," the man frowned, obviously not liking the fact that something was happening in Jinette's life that he wasn't privy to.

"His Eminence asked me to stop by earlier this morning. I suppose you heard about Van Helsing..."

"Oooh," Marcus tutted, shaking his head with horrified displeasure. "Yes, I had heard, of course. Go right in."

"Thank you," Carl sighed and shuffled forward, closely followed by an equally subdued Benerd. Evidently the monk had never been in the Cardinal's outer office, let alone gained admittance to the inner sanctums. His subdued manner made Carl's ruse all the more believable. They were admitted into the large ornate office with no further delays.

As expected, Jinette was seated at his desk, leaning back in his large chair with tea cup in hand reading a parchment missive. Hearing the door to his office open, he looked up frowning. A frown that deepened dramatically as Carl was ushered in followed by a monk he couldn't quite place.

"Your Eminence," Carl bowed, before straightening and hurrying forward to stand before the great desk.

"Carl! Why are you here? Who is this monk?"

"Oh, this is Benerd, your Grace," Carl waved a hand at his companion. "He's the monk who conducted Gab...Van Helsing's tests. You remember..."

"Oh, yes. Well, it is commendable that you want to bring me the results of those tests yourself, Carl and...er..."

"Benerd, your Grace," the monk bowed, his voice shaking noticeably.

"Yes, of course. Well, thank you. You may leave the reports on my desk and go," the Cardinal sighed, a faint frown of irritation wrinkling his forehead.

"Cardinal Jinette," Carl gasped, waving his hands to stop his superior before he could quite dismiss them. "Something has happened...the Inquisitors..."

"Carl, calm down. I can't understand you if you cannot speak coherently. Gather your thoughts and calm down."

"Yes your Grace, Carl babbled, then forced himself to take a deep breath before speaking again. "The Inquisitor, Reynaldo, he came with handlers..."

"Three," Benerd corrected, ducking his head when Jinette's dark eyes flew to him with a quelling frown in them.

"Yes, three. Benerd says they said they came for Van Helsing. They took him with them!"

Jinette, sighed, setting his tea cup down into its saucer with precision as he laid the letter he had been reading down to one side. Once free, his hands steepled before him as his dark eyes returned to Carl's. He did not act surprised nor angry, a fact that was just beginning to dawn on the friar.

"Surely this is not a surprise to you, Carl," the Cardinal asked quietly, one eyebrow rising as the friar's mouth fell open. "Ahh, I see it is. I'd thought better of you, Carl. You must realize the Church cannot have its minions dictating to it what they will and won't do. Van Helsing was given a chance to submit to the tests deemed necessary, earlier, without any unpleasantness. Instead, he barged into my private chambers making demands."

"But...but..he...you said you'd send the Inquisitor away," Carl whispered, shaking his head in confusion. "Gabriel asked not to have them present."

"And I complied," Jinette reminded the friar with a frown. "It took some doing, but I kept Reynaldo out of the tests until they were complete. But you have to realize that the tests that Van Helsing underwent were just the beginning of what is necessary. Carl, we cannot have a werewolf...or worse, a vampire, in the employ of the Vatican. Every precaution must be taken to avoid this. And every test to ensure it does not happen will be done."

Carl shook his head, unaware that he had done so. It was monstrous, this awful thing that Jinette was going on about. He knew the hunter, had talked with him, reached a compromise...he'd...lied?

"Your Eminence," Carl's voice wavered and he coughed before speaking again. "Sir, after your talks this morning...I know that Van Helsing can be difficult, but he agreed to submit..."

"And he shall," Jinette interrupted firmly. "Of that you can be certain; whether the tests are difficult on him or easy will be entirely up to him. Now, you will have to excuse me. I have a great deal of work to do and I have spent entirely too much time on this matter as it is."

"But..." Carl's voice was only a whisper that trailed off as Benerd seized his arm and drew him back away from the desk, bowing to the man behind it before pulling the friar toward the door. A hasty tugging got the door open and Benerd shoved the friar through, following quickly. He didn't allow Carl to speak, only continued pulling him after as he hurried from the office and into the Vatican corridors with a noisy sigh of relief.

"That's the first time I've actually met the Cardinal," he admitted, wiping a hand over his sweating forehead. "I think I'm glad of that now. Are you alright? Didn't exactly work out the way you thought it would, did it."

"No," Carl whispered, his blue eyes swamped with misery so profound it made the monk 'tut' with sympathy.

"Carl, you heard what he said. He said the tests would only be as hard on Van Helsing as he made them. If he cooperates..."

"He won't," Carl growled, shaking off Benerd's consoling hand, and wrapped his arms about himself in a self-hug. "I know he won't. He'll fight them every step of the way."

Benerd sighed and shrugged, his kind face falling as Carl's despair caught him up.

"Then he will suffer, indeed," the monk murmured. Turning, he walked slowly away, leaving the friar alone.

Dark...it was very, very dark... Alright...he was used to the dark. In its own way, it had always been comforting to him, a welcomed friend when he needed its concealing embrace.

He was uncomfortable, his head hurt, but that appeared to be all that was immediately wrong with him. That was also good.

As Van Helsing stirred, he felt the press of metal beneath him. Stretching out his hands, he felt metal on one side...the cool surface under his hands was segmented into bars. Alright...that wasn't so good. He was in a cage...why?

The dark was not total, his eyes were beginning adjust, to pick out darker shapes in the less intense gloom of the chamber he and his cage currently resided in. Also, he was now becoming aware of scents. Some subtle, some less so. Primarily, he was aware of the heavy scent of fear. It permeated the cage he sat in and the room outside of it like a cloying cream, caressing his face, his lips when he parted them, and his tongue, until he felt like choking on it.

Shaking himself, he carefully rolled up onto his feet, squatting, his hands rested on his thighs. Delicately, he scented the air again, trying to get past the pervasive odors to others that would be less distressing, more informative.

There...he could now half-smell, half-intuit the presence of past inhabitants of this room. There had been men here, angry and afraid. And there had been others here. The others had not been human. Van Helsing lifted his face, his nostrils dilating. Now he could smell the distinctive odor of wolf.

So, he was not the first suspected werewolf the Inquisition had netted. And evidently they had been successful in obtaining the real article on more than one occasion, judging by the information his senses supplied.

He could detect the separate scents of at least three other half-men/half-wolf hybrids. They had been afraid, their blood and urine had been scrubbed away but it still lingered faintly, carrying information of past torture and agony.

"Damn," Van Helsing swore softly, his hands slipping down around his shins to hug his thighs to his chest as he allowed himself to sit down on the cage floor again. Perching his chin on his knees, he took stock of himself as he allowed his eyes to grow more accustomed to the darkness.

He was still clothed. That was good. He wasn't particularly prudish, but there was a nasty feeling he got from the Inquisitor Reynaldo that made him want to maintain all the privacy he could salvage for himself. The man was not sexually interested him, he could tell that. But there was a certain...satisfaction...in the man's appreciation of things that were not despoiled, but could be. He would enjoy the act of destruction much more than the mere appreciation of something whole and clean. A child enjoys taking things apart to see why they work. Reynaldo would enjoy taking things apart knowing that they would never be able to work again.

Van Helsing shivered and cursed himself for allowing his mind to wander down such avenues of thought. It wouldn't do any good to scare himself this way.

Running his hands over his calves proved they'd found the stilettos in his boots. He'd kept the boots and lost the blades, pity. He still had his vest on, but the watch chain that appeared to be a holder of religious ornaments was gone. Too bad, he hoped he got it back because those 'ornaments' were some very good lock picks. Still, his gaolers had not cut the buckles off his vest and they had, at a pinch, served as crude lock picks before. So that was one for him.

His eyes had adjusted about as well as they were going to. He missed the full wolf senses he'd briefly sampled during the time the lycanthropy had full sway over his body. The influx of sight, sound, smell, touch...it had all been so incredibly heightened that he'd felt drunk with the sensations. It had exhilarated and tortured him, he'd been glad to lose it then. Now, apparently, he would pay for having tasted the life of a wolf with his own life. He was pleased that thought didn't frighten him any longer...in fact it pissed him off.

Looking about the chamber, he detected the subtle greys, deep deep blacks and faintly luminescent whites of the furnishings and other cages. All of the other cages were empty, apparently he was to have Reynaldo's and his smelly friends' undivided attention. The other furnishings were even less pleasant. A rack...no surprise. A chair fitted with restraints..again to be expected. A metal post with a ring at the top and a short chain depending from it. Alright, that was new. Probably so they could let the 'dog' out on a lead.

So that they could let him out on a lead. Wonderful. He'd graduated from trash collector to the Inquisition's pet.

It occurred to him that Dracula would be pleased with Van Helsing's current situation. He hoped the vampire was too busy burning in Hell to know about it.

There were sounds now. Outside in the hallway, bootheels thudding echoingly on the stones paving the corridors, coming toward this chamber. Van Helsing stifled a growl as it lifted his lip to expose his teeth. Apparently it was time for the fun and games to begin.

TBC


	7. Discovery and Disillusion 7

Rating: PG13  
Pairing: Carl/Gabriel  
Series/Sequel: Part Seven  
Summary: A rescue is one the way!  
Warning: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing's time (which I feel are merited), the start of slash (in a loving relationship)  
Notes: Not a lot of fluffiness, but what there is is nice. Chapter 8 will be major fluff and it's on the way.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play

**_Feedback: _**For all of you who followed the past stories, I hope that you find this story equally as interesting if not more so! Your reviews and suggestions are, as always, deeply appreciated! Due to Fanfiction rules I am unable to thank you in depth but I would like to say thanks to reviewers **_Komikitty, Queen-of-Demon-Dragons, Jania, Verona Dracula, Pineapple Ice_**

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**Heresy**: "Heresy is an awful crime against God, and those who start a heresy are more guilty than they who are traitors to the civil government. If the state has a right to punish treason with death, the principle is the same that concedes to the spiritual authority the power of life and death over the archtraitor." _Church pamphlet, authorship unknown_

"...better for a hundred innocent people to die than for one heretic to go free".

Albert Close writes of the Jesuit mission to Indonesia in 1559 that "conversion was wonderfully shortened by the cooperation of the colonial governors whose militia offered' the natives the choice of the musket ball or of baptism." "A Study in Absolute Catholic Power", Arthur Maricle

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**Discovery and Disillusion 7**

Carl stood in the busy corridor of the Vatican, lost in thought. The Cardinal had let him down badly. He had been shocked and appalled at the man's seeming lack of concern and the duplicity of his actions. Now he wondered if both he and the hunter had been grotesquely naive. He'd known at the beginning that the prelate was a man not to be crossed, but he'd followed Van Helsing any way, believing the hunter would somehow make the impossible possible. He'd forgotten Van Helsing's predilection for taking the direct route, regardless the consequences.  
Now Van Helsing was taken and Carl had no idea how to rectify that. It never occurred to the friar to leave Van Helsing to his fate. He had come to look at the Inquisition through the hunter's eyes and all he saw was evil. Evil was to be fought and if not conquered, then to be retreated from until it could be conquered. There was no alternative.

Rubbing his pale cheeks, Carl roused himself from his stupor to look about. No one was paying any attention to him, no one noticed one little friar in the midst of such magnificence. It occurred to Carl that perhaps that was a flaw he could exploit. He wasn't Van Helsing. He couldn't load himself down with arms and march on the building that housed the Inquisition with weapons blazing. But he could use his brain and outsmart them.

Instead of taking Van Helsing, he'd get the Inquisition to give the hunter up. The way to do that was to play by the Vatican's rules and order it to be done. One friar jumping up and down shouting out orders wouldn't do the trick–but an official document with all seals affixed would.

Speculatively, Carl eyed the closed doors to Jinette's office. The Cardinal kept late hours, but he would eventually leave. His staff would leave much sooner. The office would be guarded of course, but Carl had some answers to that problem in his lab. For now, he would have to wait.

He used the time as wisely as he could. First he went to Van Helsing's room and packed a bag of clothing; he did the same in his own room, adding medical supplies, as much as he could carry. The bags were enormously heavy and he waddled like a penguin carrying them through the Vatican's halls. No one stopped him, in all honesty they probably didn't even notice him as he made his way to the stables. The stable master was there, but Carl merely waved at the bags with a resigned expression and the fellow had nodded and brought over two horses. Naturally, he assumed Carl and Van Helsing were leaving on another mission. The Cardinal obviously did not believe in spreading the news of the hunter's current status too widely. The stable master helped Carl to secure the bags with a grin.

"On yer way out then?"

"Not till nightfall," the friar replied with a quick smile. I've got a bit more to bring out, but this is essentially the lot."

"All right. I'll make sure the horses are fed and watered well. You'll find them in the usual place when you get here."

"Fine, fine. Thank you."

The fellow had snorted good humoredly, made some remark about better Carl than himself, and moved on to his other duties. Carl breathed a sigh of relief and surreptitiously wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead. He truly hadn't expected it to go any differently, but he was also a basically honest man and it seemed his lies had to blaze from his face. Apparently not. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not and resolved that once he and Van Helsing were clear, he'd pay extra special attention to his prayers.

Next, he went to his lab and fetched out Van Helsing's usual bag, adding weapons to it of all descriptions. He was careful to keep the tojo gun out and apart. He wasn't sure, he hoped not, but it might have to be used tonight when they made their escape.

It never occurred to Carl to wonder that he was planning to go with the hunter. He hadn't consciously considered it, really. In his mind his preparations had the normalcy of those he always went through when leaving on a mission. He hadn't stopped yet to consider that it was the Church he was leaving now and the monsters within it.

He had another nasty start when another friar that he often chatted with stopped by his lab table, eyeing the bag he was packing.

"So, it's another mission?"

"Oh!" Carl jumped, then blushed furiously at the other man's raised eyebrow. "Er...yes. That's right."

"I suppose Van Helsing and the Cardinal will be arriving shortly?"

"No, no. Um..it's really...there's not going to be a briefing per se. We're just going back to the Carpathians to deal with a few werewolves. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Ah," the man smiled and nodded. "Bit of the usual, then. Well, that bag looks heavy. Want some help with it?"

Carl had to remind himself not to blush as he nodded his thanks. The other friar was larger than he was and better muscled. Why shouldn't he offer to help? As he hefted the bag, grunting dubiously at its weight, Carl shrugged with a sickly smile. "Better safe than sorry," he'd quipped.

He carried Van Helsing's dark coat, a trademark that he wasn't eager to be seen with. His own brown travel cloak was laid on top of it like an afterthought, concealing the dark leather completely. Finally, he added the tojo gun. Together, the two men left the lab; Carl wanted to pause, to take a last look around, but resisted the urge. It would have looked odd and besides, he wasn't sure he could look at a place where he had been happy for so long for the last time without bursting into tears.

It took some doing, both men carried a heavy load and had to stop and rest their aching muscles on the long trip. But finally, they emerged from the Vatican into the waning sunlight. It had taken longer to assemble the bags than Carl had originally planned for. In a way he was relieved. He wasn't sure what he would do with the time left before him while waiting for Jinette and his staff to leave. He felt as if his skin was going to fly off with the jolt he got every time someone looked at him or paused to talk. He couldn't help but feel a niggle of pride at how well it was going thus far. Gabriel would be impressed when Carl recounted his adventures later.

That is, Carl hoped that Gabriel would be in good enough shape to be impressed with anything.

Carl's good mood evaporated instantly with that thought; if the other friar noted his decline, he made no mention of it, probably ascribing it to the upcoming mission. They found the horses and tied down the bags, making sure they were secure.

"Well, that's it then. In case I don't' see you again before you go, have a safe trip," his helper grinned and clapped Carl on the shoulder. The blond friar smiled, nodding.

"Thank you, I'm sure it'll be fine. You take care as well."

A snort from the other man, a friendly jostle, and then Carl was alone again. It was with relief that he sank down into the straw at the horses' feet and leaned against the rough wood partitions of their stall. He'd stay here, out of sight and out of everyone's mind until dark. The horses, after a brief inspection of the man, consigned him to the unavoidable and contented themselves with pulling straw and munching contentedly. They were used to waiting, knowing from the gear on their backs that soon then would be leaving the stables. Carl wondered if they would miss it.

Time had passed for Van Helsing very quickly. He'd only just revived and had barely become fully aware of his surroundings when he had heard the footsteps outside in the corridor. Now the door to the chamber creaked open to admit the Inquisitor alone, although Van Helsing was sure he'd heard more than one set of footfalls outside. He assumed the man wanted a private moment, to gloat no doubt. Gloating seemed to be a past time that evil simply could not resist.

Light arrived with him in the form of a torch. It was little enough but after having adjusted to near total darkness, it was too bright for Van Helsing's eyes. Blinking painfully, he finally closed them, turning his head away.

Reynaldo's eyes were fixed on the hunter, his lips curved in a small smile of smug approval as he approached the cage to stop just out of reach. Naturally, he was well aware of his subject's range, he'd been doing this for some time after all.

The hunter was an oddity. He was the Vatican's fighting machine, purging evil under the Pope's banner. He was also a heretic, that much was certain, whatever the outcome of the lycanthropy testing. The Cardinal had been very specific about Van Helsing's tendency to blaspheme and take the Church's name in vain. While still doing its biding, his blatant disrespect made him difficult to control. Reynaldo was aware of this, he'd heard and seen the Hunter's disrespect first hand. No one would deny Van Helsing flirted with being a heretic, regardless the work he did for the Church.

On a deeper level, he'd been infected with evil, twice. He could not be allowed to simply wander freely infecting others. There was a disturbing sensuality about the man that made Reynaldo uncomfortably aware of the hunter's body. At first, it had caused the Inquisitor to feel anger and shame at the betrayal of his own body in a way that was foreign to him. Then, after he had heeded the Cardinal's call, Jinette had put it all in focus for him. Of course-the hunter had quashed the lycanthropy with a vaccine created from Dracula's blood. Vampires–they cast a web of compulsion on their victims. That was the cause of the fascination he felt for the hunter.

Eyeing the man before him, Reynaldo allowed a frisson of pleasure to ripple through his gut. Caged and abandoned by the Vatican for the moment, Van Helsing was his creature now, to do with as he would. The hunter's antipathy for the Inquisition was legendary. He'd been in the Inquisition's hands once, in the very beginning. The Vatican had willingly consigned him in their efforts to understand his nature. Ultimately, it had been by the Inquisition's hands that he had been given into the service of the Order. Now, like an errant son, he had been returned to the point of his origin.

"The light hurts your eyes, doesn't it?" he spoke softly with a cloying false sympathy. At this stage, most of the subjects he'd worked with in the past had been eager to believe in this false sign of gentleness. He wondered if the hunter would as well. "I'm sorry that it causes you pain."  
"No, you're not," the caged man growled with obvious disgust. "You enjoy it. Pain is something all you Church dogs enjoy, when it's someone else's."

Ah, so they would start with a challenge. He could hardly deny Van Helsing's charge. He did find the breaking of evil a strange pleasure. In the service of the Vatican, Reynaldo found his talents in this area were accepted and encouraged. And he did so enjoy a good challenge.

"Pain is something you're familiar with, hunter, is it not? Both the giving and receiving of it?"

"Yes. Why don't you get on with it? Unless you plan to torture me with your wagging tongue."

Reynaldo felt his eyebrows rise in startlement. He also felt a grudging nudge of respect for the man in the cage. He wondered if Van Helsing looked forward to the pain. Did he desire it as a sanctification? In that light, it would come almost as a blessing. He would discover it as Reynaldo did, as another form of worship, to be enjoyed together. His breath quickened as Van Helsing's head came up, his nostrils dilating as his eyes, slitted and watering, turned to Reynaldo's.

"Perhaps I was wrong about you," Van Helsing murmured as his hands clenched in fists over his legs. "You're a different kind of dog, aren't you Reynaldo?"

"What do you mean?" the Inquisitor whispered, drawing closer to the cage, his attention fixed on the other man.

Van Helsing growled, his eyes darkened almost to black, their gaze was feral. "You enjoy more than just giving pain, don't' you. Tell me, brother, when your victims scream their agony, do you grow hard?"

Reynaldo's face abruptly emptied of color. The torch in his upraised hand faltered and then fell as his grip slackened, to fall in a flaming trail to the stone floor. Sparks flew up in a brief dense cloud as the flame impacted the hard surface, then the light guttered as the brand rolled toward the cage. Mechanically, Reynaldo leaned down to retrieve the torch and cried out when his wrist was seized in an iron grip.

Van Helsing had thrust himself forward the instant the Inquisitor had come into range, his hand navigating the bars to seize the thin white wrist in an unbreakable grip. He didn't hesitate once he had the other man; with a growl he jerked Reynaldo to him, slamming him into the bars so that the side of his face was pressed against the iron and his shoulder wedged between the bars so deeply Van Helsing could feel his bones creak. He heard the man's breath catch in pain.

Dark brows drew down sharply as he moved his face close to Reynaldo's and sniffed. He could smell it on the man. His excitement was on his skin and racing in his blood, a sharp astringent musk. He watched the Inquisitor grow paler and then lick his trembling lips as his dark eyes rolled over to watch Van Helsing.

"You disgust me," the hunter murmured, his lip lifting slightly as the Inquisitor shuddered and closed his eyes.

Roughly, while maintaining his hold on Reynaldo's wrist, Van Helsing ran his other hand over the man's body, searching for keys. He found them in a deep pocket along with his watch chain and the rosary the Cardinal had given him.

"I'll take the chain," he said, then smiled. "You keep the rosary. Tell his Eminence I don't need it any longer. I'll find my own answers." The Inquisitor made no reply and Van Helsing hadn't expected one. It was enough that Reynaldo would deliver the message and Jinette would understand it. He wished he could see the Cardinal's face when he heard it, but by then Van Helsing expected to be far away from him and the Vatican. A smile touched his grim lips as he realized he would not be alone when he left. He had every intention of taking Carl with him, over his shoulder if necessary. The friar might believe in the Vatican's innate rightness, but having seen such monsters as Reynaldo that were created within the Vatican's itself, Van Helsing would find his own faith outside its walls. The only pure thing the Vatican possessed now was the friar. He would not leave without Carl.

He shoved the keys into his vest for the moment, and returned his attention to the Inquisitor. Reynaldo had not cried out yet, but knowing that help was just outside no doubt gave the man a feeling of security. He could afford to play his games of pain with his prey, enjoying the thrill of unexpectedly having the tables turned, then seizing freedom from his victim just when it was within reach. It would be a sweet searing pleasure to the Inquisitor as his prisoner was reclaimed and recaged.

Van Helsing had no intention of playing any part in that fantasy. With a savage jerk, he tore a broad strip of cloth from the Inquisitor's black cloak, smiling grimly as he forced it into Reynaldo's mouth. Another strip bound it into place and secured Reynaldo's neck to the bars. He couldn't resist leaning forward and pressing his lips to the man's ear, whispering, then licking the cold flesh.

"Enjoy it while you can, Reynaldo. It's all you'll ever get from me."

The iron bars rattled slightly as the man's body shook with a powerful shuddering jolt and a moan forced its way past the gag. Van Helsing snorted, and turned back to securing his prisoner. Another strip torn from the ragged cloak and then twisted served to tie the man's hands so that he awkwardly embraced the bars behind his back. It looked painful and Van Helsing regretted that it no doubt gave the Inquisitor additional pleasure.

"What kind of life made you, Reynaldo?" he growled as he retrieved the keys and sorted them, checking likely candidates on the door of his cage. "You who serve the Vatican and the Order and are as evil as any monster they've sent me to kill. You hate the flesh so much you'd rather rend it than caress it, then you moan in sexual satisfaction when the blood flows. How are you different from Dracula? You love the blood as much as he did–at least he made no claims of sanctity."

The bars rattled again, no doubt Reynaldo's violent opposition to Van Helsing's brand of home truth. He paid very little attention; he'd found the key he was looking for and with some effort unlocked the door. It was a profound relief to step outside the cage and stretch to his full height, arms reaching high above his head. He allowed himself the instant of pleasure in doing so, afterwards becoming aware of the other man's eyes on him. A roguish grin lit his face as he waved one finger at the Inquisitor.

"Ah ah, you're supposed to be above such thoughts, Reynaldo. I know you don't lust after me, that would be too pure a motive. When you look at me, you see me broken and bleeding, don't you? I doubt you've ever looked at a whole body and not had the urge to destroy and desecrate it."

What he could see of the Dominican's face was flushed an ugly red color, he could feel the anger radiating off his body like the heat of a fire. Evidently the Inquisitor wasn't enjoying the game any longer.

Van Helsing looked about himself, wishing he had his weapons. There was nothing in the chamber that he could adapt, all of it's nasty torturous implements were more of the body-breaking, soul-destroying kind rather than for defense. He could hardly hit the handlers outside the door with a rack. Now that he was faced with it, what was he going to do? He had to not only get past the men outside the door but through the entire building before he would be free.

It was quite dark before Carl felt it safe enough to make his move. He'd chafed at every passing second, having to continuously rein in his need to rush. He had a good mind and a better imagination, he had no difficulty envisioning what was being done to Van Helsing while Carl sat waiting.

Now in the darkness, he hurried across the square to the small unobtrusive door leading into the back halls of the Vatican. He'd chosen this route because it afforded him access to a small forgotten window that looked out over a flowering courtyard and into the windows of Jinette's outer office. The hallway was seldom used, Carl had found it one day quiet by accident and had tucked it away in his capacious memory for latter consideration. The door was locked of course, but yielded readily to several drops of acid placed in the locking mechanism. His trotting footsteps seemed horribly loud on the stone floor but he couldn't afford the time it would take to go more slowly. As it was, judging by the dust he was kicking up, he felt haste outweighed the small risk.

It had been years since he'd been in this place, but he remembered it well enough to locate the little window finally. He had prayed his imagination hadn't made more of the possibilities of this route than were actually there. Once he reached his destination though, he was delighted to find it was everything he'd remembered. A small, high window overlooking a courtyard accessible by Jinette's office only. He didn't see any other windows looking down onto the area–whatever he chose to do, he would be unobserved. From his vantage, he could easily see into the outer office–there were no lights present, the office was mercifully empty and dark. If Jinette had still been in the inner office, Carl felt sure his secretary would have left some form of light burning for his master to see by when he did finally emerge.

Getting the small window open proved difficult–long disuse made it stick horribly and the sound it made going up could only be likened to a banshee's wail. Carl managed to shut the noise up by slathering oil everywhere he could reach. It was sticky sloppy stuff and a liberal amount ended up on his robes, on his face, and disgustingly, in his hair. But the window now moved with only a muted squeal, for which he was prodigiously grateful. Once he'd raised the pane high enough to admit his body, he slithered through it, only realizing at the last minute that he should have gone through it feet first. As it was, he had to fall head first to the courtyard below. Fortunately, he fell in a bed of flowers. Unfortunately, they were roses.

His steady stream of profanity as he worked his way out of the thorny bushes would have amazed Van Helsing. It was a very dirty, sweaty and tattered friar that finally arrived at his destination–the window looking into Jinette's outer office.

He forced himself to keep calm and study the room. Everything was quiet, no sign of light of any kind. He'd found a large rock while he'd been floundering in the roses and hefted it in preparation for breaking the window pane. Just as he was raising it to crash through, a thought occurred to him and he gently pushed at the pane. It rode up noiselessly in it's track.

Looking at the rock in his hand, Carl shrugged and dropped it with a thud, then wiping his hands on his robes, he hoisted himself into the room. He was now in Jinette's domain and for an instant his audacity floored him. He couldn't imagine what the Cardinal would say if he saw Carl now, standing in this place, even without knowing what the friar had every intention of doing. Carl forced himself to swallow the large knot of horror at his own nerve and drove himself forward over the space to Jinette's office door. He found himself praying that it wouldn't open and then chiding himself for hoping all his plans would come to naught. It had to open.

It did. The magnificent door swung open at his touch to reveal the large darkened room within. Carl could feel the Cardinal's presence rush out to him, engulfing and repudiating him. It took all of his already frayed nerves to step into the room. Once in, though, he rushed to the desk frantic to get the deed done.

A quick search found pens, ink and parchment with the Vatican's seal on it. Carl forced himself to calm, to actually sit in Jinette's broad leather covered chair. He needed to allow the feelings the office invoked into himself, to allow himself to think like Jinette, to acquire just the right blend of authority and political savvy. He sat for several moments, still, except for his swinging legs. Then, he leaned over the desk and proceeded to write, his face set in a frown of concentration. The missive was short and to the point and when he was done he signed Jinette's signature with a flourish. The Cardinal's seal was on his desk, he always kept it there, scorning to carry it with him. Carl made careful use of it, making absolutely sure the heavy wax took the seal image crisply.

When that was done, he slid out of the chair, replaced it at the desk, and taking the letter with him, left the office. He was grateful to shut the door behind him, and even more grateful to slide out of the window (legs first) and into the gardens. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until he found himself gasping. He'd never done anything like this in his life and he prayed he would never have to again.

Getting back into the smaller window was difficult and again he had to go in head first. He held the letter carefully, making sure it didn't get smudged or wrinkled. The window slid shut with minimal fuss and he immediately set a fast pace back down the corridor. When he emerged in the square, he paused to consider, then turned his steps to the stables. He couldn't appear in front of anyone looking as he did now.

Fortunately, the stable master was absent and Carl was able to fetch a clean robe from his bag. A quick wash up in the horse trough (with murmured apologies to the horses) had him reasonably presentable once again. His torn robe was thriftily shoved into his saddlebag for later mending-waste not, want not.

Then, forcing himself to walk slowly, he rounded the square and approached the front of the Vatican. He trotted up the stairs, nodding to the guards, and continued on in. A quick jog brought him to the hallway before Jinette's office. Jinette's personal guard stood there now. He made sure he chose the most officious looking one to approach.

"Excuse me," he smiled apologetically. "The Cardinal has asked me to have you deliver this to the Inquisitors immediately." He handed the heavy parchment letter he'd just drafted to the man, shrugging at his look of surprise. "Sorry, I don't know what it's about, just that the Cardinal said it was urgent and to attend to it at once."

The guard nodded, once, and proceeded down the hallway, followed by Carl. The friar followed the man's footsteps, sometimes trotting to keep up, until they approached the square unassuming building that housed the Vatican's Inquisition. There the guard presented the letter to the black and white garbed attendant who answered the summons. The man, recognizing the seal and the uniform of Jinette's personal guard, bowed and asked them to wait while he presented the letter to his superiors. Carl tried not to hop up and down or bite at his nails. The guard merely stood impassive, halberd firmly planted at rest.

Obviously the Cardinal had trained his guards well. He no doubt demanded the very best from everyone around him and would settle for nothing less than absolute obedience and unquestioning loyalty. At least, Carl hoped so.

Van Helsing had spent the last hour fruitlessly perusing every inch of the chamber hoping for something that would aid his escape and had come to the disheartening conclusion that torture chambers just did not stock defensive articles.

He'd eyed the still-bound Reynaldo speculatively, considering him as a human shield but abandoned the idea. Knowing the Inquisition as he did, he couldn't imagine that they would hesitate to shoot one of their own in order to recapture him. Perhaps, knowing Reynaldo, they'd even enjoy it.

In the end, he did untie the man's hands and drag him back from the cage only to shove him into a trunk-like box and slam the lid. He had no idea what the trunk was for, but he'd grown sick of feeling the dark eyes watch every move he made. The man was...creepy.

That left him alone in the room when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the chamber again. He didn't stop to think about it, he threw himself back into the cage and pulled the door shut behind him, hearing it click. An instant later, the room flooded with light as several handlers followed by another man entered the room. Van Helsing considered the man with interest–judging by his clothing, he was not an Inquisitor. He wore simple trousers and a white tunic with a black cross on it. Evidently he was a lay person who was allowed to serve the Inquisitors, possibly as part of an apprenticeship. Probably, he was a foundling or cast off younger son who had accepted a life of service to the Church. Van Helsing, personally, would rather starve in the streets than serve the Inquisition, but he could not fault the fellow for trying to survive.

The men approached the cage, Handlers to the rear and the servant moving to the door of the cage with a large ring of keys.

"Cardinal Jinette has ordered that you be released by direct order of the Pope," the man murmured. Judging by the subdued demeanor of the men, Van Helsing assumed this had never happened before. He too, if pressed, was shocked by the turn of events. Since when had the Pope taken an interest in him? Van Helsing and Jinette were barely on speaking terms, much less the Pope.

"I will unlock the door, and you will go with these men," the servant gestured to the Handlers. "You are to be released into the custody of Cardinal Jinette's personal guard. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Van Helsing nodded, rising to his feet. He had a fair idea why this was happening.

Obviously, there was some beastie loose on the countryside somewhere and he was being released to deal with it. He very much doubted if this release had Jinette's whole-hearted approval, though. The Cardinal knew him too well, he wouldn't believe that Van Helsing would agree to dispose of the monster then meekly trot back to resume his punishment. In fact, this whole thing was decidedly odd. But he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, either.

The servant unlocked the cage door and stood back to allow the Handlers to move forward. Van Helsing emerged and allowed his arms to be taken in rough grips. He recognized one of the Handlers as the one he'd kneed in the nuts earlier and wasn't surprised when the man's fingers dug painfully into his arm. No words passed between prisoner and gaolers.

He was marched from the chamber and out into the corridor. The place teamed with guardsmen, servants, and the black and white clad dogs of the church. Evidently a Papal pardon was rare enough to cause some mild hysteria. Looking at the throngs, he was glad that he hadn't given in to the urge to simply try to bluster his way out earlier. From the looks he was receiving, he was well enough known that it would have been an abysmal failure.

They marched through the corridors, into a wide reception area and to the front door of the building. There he was met by one guard bearing Jinette's insignia and...

"Carl!"

The friar bobbed and bounced, his hands clutched before him. He was trying very hard not to smile broadly and the contortions his mouth was undergoing were almost painful to watch.

"We have a mission," the friar announced. "We are to leave immediately by Cardinal Jinette's instructions. The horses are already saddled and our belongings are packed."

"Mission? In a bloody pig's e..."

"Gabriel!" the friar covered the area still remaining between himself and the hunter in what looked to be a single bounce. "The Cardinal said 'immediately'. As in right now...as in _no time to lose_!"

The friar's eyebrows were doing some sort of mad dance and his hands on Van Helsing's arm were all but ripping his sleeve off. Carl grimace ingratiatingly at the Handlers still holding the hunter's arms. "We have to leave immediately. If you'll escort us to the stables, I'd be very grateful."

The Handlers sneered at the mere friar before them and shoved Van Helsing at him, stepping back. "We've carried out our orders. It's your job now to make him behave."

Van Helsing staggered slightly, caught his balance and turned only to find Carl in his way.

"Gabriel, _please_. We really must go now."

He really wanted to wipe the smirks off their faces, but he allowed Carl to drag him away. Jinette's guard stayed behind, presumably to gossip.

Once underway, Van Helsing's long legs covered the ground at a prodigious pace that had the friar running to keep up. They reached the stables in record time. The hunter was surprised to see the amount of baggage strapped to the horses and turned a hard speculative gaze on the friar.

"Carl, what's going on?"

"Gabriel, we don't have time. We must leave now!"

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what you've done. This isn't how you pack for a mission. Everything we own must be here."

"Yes, yes. I'll tell you everything, but we must go now, before they realize... Gabriel, get your damned _arse_ on that horse!"

Dark eyebrows soared to new heights as the hunter watched the friar bob before him in an absolute frenzy that was rapidly transmuting into hopping anger. Whatever was going on, he wouldn't get the sense of it until he'd done as the friar wanted.

"Alright. But you'll tell me everything once we're clear."

"Yes, oh God yes, just GO!"

Shaking his head, the hunter caught up his horse's reins, leading it out of the stable and then swinging up into the saddle. Carl followed, all but swarming up into the saddle without any of his usual preliminary hopping about or attempting to vocally placate the beast.

It was Carl who dug his heels in and set off at a gallop, forcing Van Helsing to follow after. The iron shoes of their horses struck sparks off the cobbles as they flew through the Vatican Square and out into the town, never slowing until they burst out into the countryside. They were free now, any possible reason for Carl's panic was, at least, temporarily behind them. Van Helsing reined in his horse, walked it to the side of the dirt road, and slid out of the saddle. Carl didn't appear to be disposed to stop but one look at the stubborn set of the Hunter's mouth and he gracelessly acquiesced, dismounting his horse as well.

They met in the middle of the road, the hunter with his hands on his hips and the friar with his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.

"Well?"

"Well?"

"Carl."

"Gabriel."

"You're not going to just stand there and say nothing, trust me."

"Gabriel, now is not the best time to be discussing this."

"Oh, I think it's an excellent time. Give."

"'Give'? Give what, Gabriel? As in give a coin? As in give until it hurts? As in give a damn..."

"Carl. What's happened. Talk to me."

The friar's animosity abruptly failed him, his arms slipping down as his head dropped. A shrug of his shoulders followed by a heavy sigh seemed to be all Van Helsing was going to get out of him. Then, very quietly, "I couldn't let them hurt you. It was my fault...I couldn't let you stay in that horrible place."

A smile touched the grim lines of Van Helsing's lips, turning up the corners. With a sigh of his own, he moved closer to the little friar, placing his hands on his shoulders and shaking them slightly. "Carl, it wasn't your fault. Where did you get an idea like that?"

Another shrug, but the blue eyes were raised now to meet his and a slight smile tugged at Carl's mouth. "Well, I did send you back there, where they were waiting."

"And...so...therefore?" Van Helsing prompted. "Carl, they had Jinette's backing. They would have taken me on the front steps just as easily as in Benerd's lab. Going back had nothing to do with it."

A deep sigh that seemed to rise from the friar's feet gusted from him and then he was throwing himself into Van Helsing's arms, his own awkwardly encircling the hunter's ribs in a fierce hug.

The hunter staggered slightly as the friar's weight hit him, but he compensated the next instant. His smile grew warm and delighted so that his eyes crinkled with pleasure. His own arms hugged the friar to him, hesitant at first, then with more assurity when Carl made a happy sound and buried his face in Van Helsing's shoulder.

"So, little friar," he chided, patting his friend's back, "are you ever going to tell me what you had to do to get me out of that place? And don't tell me the Pope sat up and took notice or that  
Jinette had a change of heart. I'm a little too old for fairy tales."

The friar chuckled and rubbed his cheek against the leather clad shoulder he pressed up against.

"Yes, I promise, I'll tell you everything. It's a fascinating tale, really. But later, please Gabriel.

Right now I just want to stay like this and convince myself we're both here and you're really safe."

The hunter smiled down at the blond head tucked so trustingly against his shoulder, lowering his face to plant a kiss on the top of it. "Alright my friend. You're safe and so am I because of you. I can afford to wait after what you've accomplished."

Carl's happiness was complete. They were both safe and he had managed to pull it off. There would be time for regrets and worries later. Right now, he had Gabriel's arms about him, he was safe and felt warm. And he was loved.

TBC.


	8. Discovery and Disillusion 8

**Rating**: PG13  
**Pairing**: Carl/Gabriel  
**Series/Sequel**: Part Eight  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play  
**Summary**: Intermission while we indulge in some fluffiness  
**Warning**: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing's time (which I feel are merited), the start of slash (in a loving relationship)

**Notes**: I read a review somewhere that said the reader could never understand why writers wrote slash–it wasn't plausible and it was something the characters would never do. I understand completely. I also understand that when you find love, the face of the person you love is just that–the face of the person you want to be with. It's not the face of a man or woman–just happiness. I hope this explains why I made this story a slash story. I think both men have had enough pain and loneliness, certainly too much to throw away love when it was possible.

**Feedback**: For all of you who followed the past stories, I hope that you find this story equally as interesting if not more so! Your reviews and suggestions are, as always, deeply appreciated! Due to Fanfiction rules I am unable to thank you in depth but I would like to say thanks to reviewers **Jania, ****Lilya**, **Verona Dracula**, **Komikitty**, **Queen-of-Demon-Dragons**, **Pineapple Ice**

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**_Fact of Life: "All you need is love."_**

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**Discovery and Disillusion 8**

As they rode over the dark uneven road, Carl reflected that he would have been happy to remain for the rest of the night standing in the middle of the road in Gabriel's arms. It had felt right, and safe, and so breathtakingly warm–he wondered how he had ever felt warm before when not snuggled up against Van Helsing.

Carl wasn't a coward, nor overly prone to paranoia. But when cuddled up against Van Helsing, he was conscious of releasing a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He felt completely safe, he didn't have to be aware any longer. He could simply exist and live in the moment, and leave everything to his friend.

He wondered, briefly, if Van Helsing felt the same way? Did he ever simply drift? Carl had to stifle a chuckle as he imagined the two of them, drifting happily along while the Vatican tumbled around their ears. Of course, the Vatican wasn't an issue any longer, not for either of them. With that thought, Carl's happy bubble of euphoria burst and melted away. He was officially sanctioned now–there was no doubt about that. Both he and Van Helsing would be hunted.

"Gabriel," he ventured, looking sideways at the man riding beside him. In the darkness, he saw the hunter's profile turn to face him and heard an encouraging noise. No excess words, just a quiet listening silence. "Gabriel, will they be coming after us?"

The hunter sighed and Carl heard the whisper of fabric rubbing on fabric–Van Helsing shrugging.  
"Probably sooner than later." A pause, then softly, "Carl, are you afraid?"

The friar considered his answer. His eyes were fixed on the reins in his fingers, feeling the stiff leather creak in his grasp. He was used to this now; he'd gone on enough missions with Van Helsing and had been outside of the Vatican long enough that he was no longer the pale naive shut-in. He understood the world–maybe not as well as Van Helsing or Jinette, but better than he had. He could cope. So...was he afraid?

"I'm not afraid of having left the Vatican. I'm afraid of running for the rest of our lives but only because I don't think it would be much of a life."

The hunter's deep sigh made Carl pause and look up before Van Helsing's hand actually reached out to touch and catch at his reins, pulling to bring Carl's horse to a stop. "Let's move further into the forest, away from the road. We can't risk a fire, but we can stop for a rest, for a while."

Carl didn't answer, just nodded, trusting Van Helsing would sense his acquiescence. He must have because the hunter turned his horse and guided its sure footsteps through the dark trees, followed by Carl's horse. They went quite a ways into the deep rustling darkness before Van Helsing finally signaled a stop.

They'd arrived at a small clearing, no more than a few yards round, and dotted with boulders and large scraggly shrubs. Carl dismounted , allowing the reins to drop to the ground so the horse could forage. They'd used both mounts often in their travels. The animals knew them and were well trained, they wouldn't wander off in the dark.

Carl felt the hunter beside him in the darkness and welcomed the touch of Van Helsing's fingers on his, taking his hand to lead him. He knew that the hunter could see better than he could. He found himself wondering, again, if it was peculiar to the man or if it was a by-product of the werewolf venom. These thought occupied his mind esoterically. He wasn't afraid of Van Helsing, nor did he subscribe to Jinette's paranoia about the possible 'tainting' of the hunter, either by lycanthropy or vampirism. He did wonder, though, how it felt to be able to taste the wind, to see in the darkness, and to hear things others couldn't. He wanted to ask. But first he wanted to simply drift.

Van Helsing settled against a large standing rock at the edge of the clearing, pulling Carl down against him. He didn't speak, simply cuddled the friar to his side, arm about Carl, his hand rubbing the juncture of Carl's neck and shoulder.

For a moment, Carl wasn't sure what to do–he didn't know how to react. Then he simply gave up thinking and turned instinctively into the solid warm body beside him, laying his cheek on Van Helsing's chest. He lay with his eyes closed, feeling the steady beat of the hunter's heart in his ear and the calm cadence of his breath and felt at peace. It was alright to stop struggling, stop thinking–to just be Carl.

Van Helsing felt at ease as he held the friar to him, his arms closing to embrace the smaller body, offering his warmth and solidity to Carl. He didn't have all the answers; he couldn't promise Carl that their lives would not be difficult or that it would all come out fine in the end. All he could promise was that he would protect Carl. Gently, he raised one hand to stroke over Carl's hair, smoothing it, running his fingers through it with pleasure. He felt the friar stretch and then burrow deeper into his chest and he smiled in the darkness. His friar was a pleasure rat, there was no mistaking that. He often wondered at Carl's preference for a religious life when he so obviously enjoyed all the pleasures the secular life had to offer.

Over and over, he stroked Carl's hair and gently hugged him, and was pleased when he heard the friar sigh with happiness.

The time passed too quickly and Carl felt himself growing sleepy in Van Helsing's arms. Knowing that they still had miles to cover before they could rest again, he reluctantly stirred, pulling back to look up into his friend's face.

"Gabriel?"

"Hmm?"

"I wanted to say...thank you. For taking me with you, I mean."

Carl felt the soft puff of breath stir his hair as Van Helsing snorted. "If I had refused, would you have stayed at the Vatican?"

"No," came the emphatic reply, and then a slightly pissy "hmph!" as the hunter chuckled again.

"Don't worry, Carl. If you had not come for me, I would have found a way to come for you. I wasn't going to leave without you."

"You would have come...for me?"

"Yes. Why does that surprise you?"

"Oh...well...it's just..." the friar swallowed, considered his words, and finally settled for shrugging helplessly. "It's just that...well..I always thought I got in your way...more than anything. I mean, I know my inventions are useful...I just never thought I was useful. If you know what I mean."

"Carl..." Van Helsing's arms settled about Carl in a firm squeezing hug, shaking him slightly. "Carl, weapons are useful. They're useful tools. So are the horses, and our gear. _You_ are my friend...the only friend I can recall ever having and the only one I'd ever wish for. You are something...necessary...in my life. I can manage without all kinds of useful things, Carl. I don't want to manage without you."

The friar made no reply, only settled back against Van Helsing's chest and nodded. He felt foolishly sentimental and relished the feeling. He'd never felt this way before. He thought he would miss his lab more, would miss the Vatican and his way of life. Instead, all he could think about was how much he would have missed Van Helsing if the hunter had left without him. He doubted if he would have found enjoyment in any of the trappings of his past life if he'd known he'd never see Van Helsing again. Machines and plans and the safety of an established routine were no substitute for having someone in his life who genuinely cared.

"I'm glad, " he spoke at last and moved to embrace the man holding him, squeezing until he heard the hunter grunt at the constriction.

"You're stronger than you look" Van Helsing wheezed and Carl felt a blush flood his face as he felt pride at the compliment.

"You didn't think that I had it in me, did you?" he taunted happily.

"Actually," the hunter's voice was thoughtful and held a note of pride in it that stilled Carl's exuberance. "I think I've always believed you could and would do anything you set your mind to. Carl, when are you going to tell me how you got me out?"

"Oh...well, I suppose I just thought it could wait until we had more time."

"We have time," the reply was quietly definite and the hunter settled back against the boulder, pulling Carl into his chest again. "Go ahead."

Heaving a sigh, the friar settled into the warmth of the other man. He consciously stilled his mind as he attempted to put what had seemed like a very chaotic time into perspective.

"Well...Benerd came to find me to tell me you'd been taken..."

The hunter nodded, but did not interrupt despite the unvoiced request for further information in Carl's pause. Realizing Van Helsing had no intention of speaking, Carl continued his story.

"There's not much to tell, really. I tried to go to Cardinal Jinette for help, but he only said you had gotten what you deserved. I didn't understand how he could allow his anger to make him do something so horribly wrong. He turned his back on you...and me I guess. I...I thought better of him."

Van Helsing stirred, his arms about the friar tightening a little in apology. "I'm sorry, Carl. I shouldn't have pushed him like that–there was no need to involve you. I think if it had been just he and I..."

"No, Gabriel!" the friar protested vehemently, his head shaking against the hunter's chest. "It shouldn't matter whether you did it in private or in public. He made a choice to abandon you and he defended it as if it was his right. I imagine...when he realizes what I've done...he'll do the same thing to me."

"Again, I'm sorry. Do you still think he's a good man?"

"Yes. But I think he's lost his way...somewhat. He still wants to fight evil, to keep others safe, like we do. He's just lost the ability to tell true evil from someone with a different opinion. That's a very scary thing in a man with such absolute power."

Van Helsing's grunt of agreement vibrated in Carl's ear and made him squirm slightly. He was very comfortable, despite the topic of their conversation. He was grateful to Van Helsing for talking to him about the Cardinal–he needed to get his confusion and disappointment off his chest. In fact, he was quite comfortable leaving things as they were and going back to drifting.

Van Helsing had other ideas. A finger ungraciously poked Carl in the ribs, making him snort with laughter.

"I know there's more to tell, Carl. Start talking."

"Alright! Just don't...do that again."

"What?"

"You know...that."

The hunter considered the request, his lips turning up into a smile. "Ah... I'll think about it. I can only promise, here and now, not to do it if you'll start talking. Agreed?"

"Hmph. Alright." With a sigh, Carl continued. "Well, since Jinette wouldn't help, I realized I'd have to manage on my own. So I packed our things, loaded our bags on the horses and waited for nightfall. I was able to get into Jinette's office and forge a letter pardoning you. That's all."  
He finished with a flourish, purposely trying to keep the tale short and commonplace. He waited for his friend to say something but as the silence drew out, he squirmed, drawing away from Van Helsing to look up into his face, half expecting to find the man asleep.

The hunter wasn't asleep. His eyes were fastened on Carl's face with a look of profound amazement. As Carl drew back, Van Helsing shook his head and turned so that he faced the friar.

"Again," he ordered, motioning to the friar with one hand. "Tell it to me again. And this time tell me everything."

Carl shrugged, blushing as he felt Van Helsing's complete attention on him. He was proud of his accomplishment and normally he would have no compunction about crowing over a success. But this didn't feel like the time for crowing. What he had done had been possible because he'd had no choice. It had been an act of desperation. Now, with Van Helsing's attention on him, commanding him to give more detail, he reluctantly began again, reliving the events and the fear he had felt.

The hunter listened attentively, asking for clarification occasionally, but for the most part listening quietly. When Carl spoke of his despair and guilt, Van Helsing reached out to touch his hand, stroking it briefly, before withdrawing. Attempting to lighten the mood, Carl dwelt at great length on his messy oiling of the little window and then falling into the roses. He was relieved when Van Helsing actually laughed out loud.

The rest of the tale was told with no embroidery and as quickly as possible. When he finished, he looked up for the first time since he'd begun to meet Van Helsing's eyes. Shrugging, he smiled lopsidedly. "That's it. That's the whole thing."

Van Helsing simply shook his head, his hand rising to touch and stroke Carl's cheek. When he did speak, it was so softly it was almost a whisper.

"Carl, you take my breath away."

The friar smiled, aware that he had smiled more on this, supposedly the worst night of his life, than he could remember ever doing in months past.

"So," Van Helsing's hand left Carl's cheek to come to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. "In order not to undo your good work, we should be on our way. We have miles to go yet, before dawn comes."

Reluctantly, the friar stirred himself and scrambled to his feet, dusting his robes off. When he was ready, Van Helsing took his hand again and led him to the horses, then proceded him through the trees. Carl followed well enough until they were free of the forest, then he paused, reluctant to mount. The hunter turned, sensing his change in mood.

"Carl?"

"I've been wondering something. I know that now might not be the right time..."

"Don't worry about it. Tell me what you've been wondering?"

Toeing the packed dirt of the road, Carl kept his eyes directed downward as he spoke. He'd planned to ask this much differently, but now he was struck almost dumb with shyness.  
"I..I wanted to ask..well.."

"Go on. It's alright, you couldn't ask me anything I won't answer, Carl."

The friar nodded and bracing himself, raised blue eyes to the hunter's hazel, looking deeply so that he would see the strength and truth within them. "When Anna died, you were devastated, weren't you?"

Van Helsing nodded, "Yes." His eyes on Carl's were dark with a sadness that made Carl ache.

The friar nodded as well, clearing his throat roughly. "I knew that you cared for her. Loved her. I always wanted to help...make it better somehow. But I never knew how. Now...Gabriel...I wanted to know–why did you kiss me back? I know that you don't bed men."

Van Helsing gaze on the friar's was gentle as was his voice when he replied after a moment's consideration. "I suppose I kissed you back because you seemed to want it so much. I wanted to satisfy your curiosity–it's not something that I often have the chance of doing. There is no mystery in the way I think, Carl. I don't ponder things as you do. I probably act on my immediate feelings more than I should, sometimes. At the time, it felt right. As for not bedding men... I had never been in love with a man. I think..when I felt love for a man..I would give myself permission to show that love. Anything else would be a waste and a lie. I can't say that I'd never do something–how would I know until that opportunity arose?"

"So...when you kissed me... It was just to satisfy my curiosity?" the friar murmured, an odd heaviness in his heart pressed on him, making him hurt. The pain was unexpected but not entirely unfamiliar.

Watching Carl's face, Van Helsing saw the youth in it fade. He heard the friar's voice deepen with regret and recognized the sadness in Carl's eyes as one he'd seen often when they had first met. He had known the friar only a short time before he had felt comfortable with him. They had forged their friendship on the bitter common ground of loneliness. He had always been grateful for Carl's company since.

Now, he moved to the stand before the friar, taking his chin in his hand to tilt up the sad face to his own. His thumb ghosted up and over Carl's lips before he leaned down to press his own to Carl's.

He tasted Carl's gasp again and relished it, his eyes closing with pleasure as he pressed into the friar's mouth. For just this small time he allowed himself to drift. To let go of the burdens in his life and the choices made and still to come. He'd made this choice, and he savored it with all of his heart.

He kissed Carl for a long time, sometimes softly, ghosting his lips over the friar's; sometimes strongly, groaning with pleasure at the warm wet softness of the other man's lips. His arms were around Carl and he enjoyed the weight of the friar against him, enjoyed the warmth of his body and the wonderful knowledge that he was no longer alone. Love is a very hard thing to find in life. Even more so if not even the possibility of finding it in another man is allowed. He was tired of being alone. He ached with the burden of past sorrow. He loved and missed Anna and always always would. And he loved Carl.

"I love you," he breathed against Carl's lips and felt the friar still and then tremble. "I love you, Carl. I thank God for your curiosity." Van Helsing drew back to meet Carl's wide eyes and smiled.

"You...you love...me?"

"Yes."

"But...Anna..."

"I loved her, I still do. I always will, I think. But there is room in my heart for two, if you don't mind sharing space with Anna?"

The friar smiled as he shook his head. "No. I think I'd be honored."

Van Helsing's arms tightened around the friar and held him close. "Thank you." He wasn't sure who his thanks was directed to–the man in his arms or the woman he had loved and lost. Probably, if he were honest, it was to both.

Cardinal Jinette made his way through the Vatican toward the chambers reserved for the Order. He wanted to deal with an issue that had preyed on his mind for most of the day. He believed it was a minor issue, but one that should be dealt with expeditiously and then laid to rest. The flickering light of the candle he carried illuminated nothing of interest–it was quiet here now. Most of the men in the chambers he passed were asleep or very nearly so. However, he had no doubt that the man he meant to visit now would still be awake. He had long ago learned that when Carl was troubled, he didn't sleep.

He tapped briskly on the chamber door, then opened it without waiting for a reply. "Carl, I feel we must talk..."

Jinette's prepared speech ground to a halt as his eyes took in the empty chamber. Carl's effects, his books, the small mementoes that he had collected over the years–they were all gone. Jinette went through the motions of checking the clothes press, but he knew by the stillness of the air surrounding him that Carl had left long ago.

Jinette slowly sank onto the bed, sitting in silence and regret. Time passed unawares, sliding over him with as little substance as the night's shadows. He allowed his mind the respite of memories and smiled at them now and then. He didn't hurry them, he allowed each its due. When the last memory played out, the scene that had taken place earlier that day between he and Carl, he sighed.

Then, rising to his feet, he left the chamber behind. Only the candle remained, its flickering light spilling over the rumpled bed. In the distance, Jinette's voice was raised, rousing the hallways and sleepers within.

Calling them to arms.

TBC.


	9. Discovery and Disillusion

Rating: PG13  
Pairing: Carl/Gabriel  
Series/Sequel: Part Eight  
Summary: The Vatican is attacked, Carl and Van Helsing return  
Warning: Aspersions against the Church of Van Helsing's time (which I feel are merited), the start of slash (in a loving relationship)  
Notes: I'm not sure how in depth PG13 will allow me to go; I hope I achieved the right amount. I'm posting this early because I want to try to get it in before they close the servers down. I hope you like it!  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (sniff), but I do like to play  
Feedback: For all of you who followed the past stories, I hope that you find this story equally as interesting if not more so! Your reviews and suggestions are, as always, deeply appreciated! Due to Fanfiction rules I am unable to thank you in depth but I would like to say thanks to everyone who has been kind enough to read this story.

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**_"The End is just the Beginning"

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_****Discovery and Disillusion 9 **

Gabriel did not lead them to the ports or other large towns. He knew that they would be followed–if not to reclaim the hunter then certainly to reclaim Carl. He found himself regretting Carl's involvement–the friar had been happy where he had been. He'd had a place, doing what he loved, and he was free from any possibility of harm.

Van Helsing alternatively tortured himself with these thoughts and then luxuriated in the awareness of his love for the man at his side. He'd had no faith in love or the possibility of it for so long. It seemed a gift beyond him, something that was to be denied him in this odd life he led. He had accepted that, but he had never welcomed it. When he lay alone at night, thinking on a lifetime without love or companionship, he had felt anger and despair. He had gone so far as to rale at God for it, and had never been satisfied with the ominous silence that answered him.

Now, he wondered if it was God's answer that rode beside him now, and he wondered if it was a blessing or a punishment for Carl.

Carl rode silently for the most part, happy to be with Van Helsing, happy that he was wanted and that they were free to discover this thing called love between them. He had been curious, or so he'd thought, now he was aware of a wild happiness within himself that, if he were being strictly honest, meant his 'curiosity' had been a great deal more. He had wanted all the affection and companionship that he'd been given by Gabriel. He'd luxuriated in it and had come to count on it. The day that he'd called Van Helsing by his first name, he'd held his breath, sure of a repulse. When the hunter had only smiled, his hazel eyes lightening with surprise and pleasure, Carl had felt a light bloom within himself. It had been wonderful! He'd hugged that memory to himself, bringing it out to think on often. Now, in retrospect, he realized it had been the first inkling of love.

He noted that they stayed on the backroads, often riding through fields and forests. He understood why and felt the touch of fear at the surety that they were, even now, being followed. But he could not bring himself to regret his decision. He had what he wanted, his needs had changed. For as long as he could, he would stay with Gabriel and be happy.

* * *

Hunter and friar arrived at a small meadow about midday. They'd avoided every village, every sign of life. They had some luck with hunting–several rabbits had fallen prey to Van Helsing's crossbow. Carl was grateful for the practice they both had in living off the land. It was difficult and messy, but possible. When they finally settled for a rest, he would cook and dry the rabbit meat. Thanks to Carl, they had fresh water and several bottles of wine. When the wine was gone, he'd fill the bottles with water as well so that they would not go thirsty. Van Helsing had chuckled at his blatantly practical domesticity, but Carl had felt the hunter's pleasure in his actions and simply smiled.

Now, as they rode through the tall grass, Carl looked about himself and drew in deep lungsful of air.

"This is the life, Gabriel! No monsters to hunt, no vampires and werewolves to dodge–just peace and quiet."

"And saddle sores," the hunter chuckled, reminding Carl of the stiffness the friar had complained about earlier.

"Even saddle sores," the friar had answered, defiantly pleased with the world at large. "If that is all I have to contend with, then I'm well pleased."

"Hmph. I'm glad you're pleased, Carl. But perhaps you should tame your exuberance somewhat–we've only been on the road for two days. I've no doubt you'll feel differently when..."

The friar looked up from where he had been smirking at the neck of his horse, waiting to hotly deny Van Helsing's doom saying. The hunter had come to a standstill, he was now sitting his horse tensely, his eyes searched the meadow and the surrounding country in long raking sweeps.

"Gabriel?"

The hunter did not answer, only held his hand up to still Carl's voice, then pointed. Off to the right, far away, a group of riders could barely be seen. Their course would bring them directly to the two men.

"Should we try to outdistance them?" Carl asked nervously, squinting to try to bring the riders into focus while knowing they were too far for him to see clearly.

"No." Van Helsing's tone made the friar turn to him, surprised. He'd heard curiosity in the hunter's voice and now he saw Van Helsing's expression was one of grim pleasure.

"Gabriel? What is it? Can you see them clearly?"

"Yes, I can see them. It's the Cardinal."

"What! Cardinal Jinette? Are you certain?"

"Quite," came the dry assurance. "He wears a dark cloak, but I can recognize him."

"But, but..." Carl stammered, hastily following Van Helsing as he urged his horse into a walk toward the approaching riders. "Why would the Cardinal come out here? And how did he know where we were?"

Van Helsing shrugged, a heavy sigh gusting from him. "He has something he wants to tell us. I'm guessing a new beastie is loose. As to how he knows where we are...how does he ever know?"

"And the men with him? The Inquisition?"

"No, not the Inquisition–his personal guard I believe. I don't think he's here to force us back–he's here to deal."

The friar could only splutter at the tone of devilment he heard in Van Helsing's voice. He could not believe the hunter actually appeared to be looking forward to the encounter. For himself, he was dreading it. He was horrified that the Cardinal had located them so quickly, so easily. He had thought they had masked their progress brilliantly, never taking chances or putting themselves forward in any way. Now to find that they were so easily tracked.

Van Helsing, feeling the friar's panic, looked back at him with a smile. "Carl, there was never any doubt that they would find us eventually. I thought you knew that."

Feeling himself chastised, Carl hung his head and shrugged, only looking up when Van Helsing's warm fingers touched his chin to pull his face up to his own.

"It's all right, Carl. Our freedom is not dependent on outmaneuvering the Vatican. It's in dealing with them–as you once said, we compromise."

"All of this..." Carl waved his arm wildly at the country surrounding them, "you knew they'd find us this easily? All of this is just a bargaining chip?"

"No, not all of it," the hunter smiled, his hand returning to Carl's face to stroke his cheek. "I love you, Carl. That was a wonderful outcome I hadn't planned on. The rest..." The hunter gestured at the country with a flourish, imitating Carl, "The rest of it...well... I suppose so."

"You are...without a doubt...the most...most..." Carl spluttered, feeling an angry flush rush to his face, its heat robbing him of coherent thought.

"Saddle sores," Van Helsing reminded him, not in the least put off by Carl's obvious displeasure. "Carl, I don't want you to have to be on the run for the rest of your life. I don't want you hunted because of me. I want you to have your lab and the joy you find in creating wonderful things. If that means I deal with Jinette...that we both have to compromise with him...is that so awful?"

"But he _won't_ compromise! You tried. He just lied to you."

"No, he didn't," the hunter shook his head, a grim smile on his lips. The riders were much closer now. He could clearly see the grim frown on Jinette's face. He could also see the men riding with him and assured himself they were only lightly armed. Jinette was no fool. "Jinette never promised more than he said–to allow you to be present at the tests and to pull the Inquisition back during them. More than that he never promised and I never asked for."

The friar could only gape at the man by his side. He felt wrung out and confused. If Van Helsing knew all of this, then. . . .

"Why?" he finally asked, his eyes on the hunter were tired but willing to believe.

"Because he wouldn't compromise. He couldn't–_they_ wouldn't let him." Van Helsing smiled grimly as he reined in his horse to a standstill. "Now, he's done his best to control the situation and I've done my best to upset it. Now they must compromise."

It all made a strange wonderful sense, Carl realized. He'd thought he was leaving the church forever but of course that was never possible. The church was everywhere–there was not a village or a town that did not have one. They couldn't avoid towns forever. And despite Van Helsing's anger, Carl realized the hunter did not want to stop protecting others. He was a monster slayer because he chose to be, not because he was forced to be. Jinette had said Van Helsing would never stop–he'd been right.

As for himself, Carl's head spun so that he couldn't think clearly. He wanted his lab. He wanted to be apart of Van Helsing's life. He only prayed they weren't mutually exclusive. Gabriel said he wanted those things for Carl, because he loved the friar.

Jinette's group was now quite close. They'd slowed to a canter, approaching the two men warily. Evidently, they weren't sure of their reception and weren't about to rush in on the armed hunter.

When several yards separated them, Jinette called a halt, gestured the men with him to remain while he dismounted and began walking toward Van Helsing and Carl. The hunter dismounted as well, followed by the friar. They walked through the tall grass to meet the Cardinal, the hunter grim and the friar sweating heavily.

"So! This is where you brought us, you ungrateful, bullheaded, obstinate, refractory, miserable excuse for a heretic!" Jinette's angry tirade met them several steps before the Cardinal did. His arms waved angrily in the air, his face was red and blotched, and his robes caught on brambles only to be ripped loose with a curse.

Carl could only stare and wonder. Van Helsing chuckled darkly at his side. "Ah ah, your Grace," he growled, waving a finger at the infuriated prelate. "Your language."

"I'll damned well curse if I feel like it, Van Helsing! You've cost me no end of trouble and hardship! The Vatican is in an uproar! The Inquisition wants your bloody head! You're damned lucky it's me here and not them!"

Van Helsing inclined his head in a small bow. "I'm well aware of that, your Grace. I appreciate your taking the trouble to meet us like this."

"You _'appreciate'_ the trouble! I'm not here to earn your appreciation, Van Helsing! You've left a damned mess behind and I want you to fix it! I've had to call the Vatican to arms! Do you know what kind of things are crawling out of the woodwork now that you're gone? It's as if every evil thing in the world realizes you've left and is descending on us. We've held them off, of course. We're not helpless or stupid, for that matter. But the balance is off and they know it. You both have to come back."

The Cardinal paused, breathing heavily so that his chest rose and fell like a ship at sea. His eyes on the hunter were angry and hard but Carl detected a tone in his voice that was less harsh, even... pleased? When Jinette turned to Carl, the friar definitely saw and heard the anger abate to become more scolding.

"And you. Carl, what were you thinking? I'll admit the ruse was clever–it certainly made the Inquisition look like fools!"

"You're...you're _pleased_?" Carl stammered, his jaw insisting on falling open. "How could you be pleased? I thought you supported them? Believed they had the right to take Van Helsing..."

"Oh, they have the right, make no mistake. But of course I wasn't pleased. Far from it! This...this...reckless _oaf_..." Jinette waved at Van Helsing, scowling furiously at him for good measure before continuing, "He made enough noise to practically dare them to. Oh, I understand why you did it, Van Helsing. You wanted to prove something–well you have. You've proven you're necessary without a shadow of a doubt."

"But your Grace," Carl began, only to be cut off by Jinette.

"Carl, Carl. I had no idea you were so naive!" the Cardinal growled as he caught the friar's shoulder, squeezing it hard. "Think! You're in the lab all the time–you've seen who works down there. Do you think all of those men–the Hindus, the Jews, the Buddhists, the Muslims, all of them have recanted and now lovingly embrace the Vatican? Embrace the ideals of the Inquisition? Of course not! We are in a war, Carl. And the Vatican realizes it cannot be fought on one front alone. Regardless what the Church Dogs may say. So..."

Jinette turned back to the hunter, his arms folding as he drew himself up to his full height. "What do you want to come back? And don't think you can twist my arm on this. We need you, but you're not so indispensable that I'll become a doormat for you."

"You know what I want," Van Helsing growled, his own arms coming up to cross over his chest.

"Yes, well...that can be arranged, of course. You're not asking for much...just lodgings outside of the Vatican?"

"And full dispensation for Carl."

"Hmph... All right. I can easily make a case for your corrupting him."

Carl looked from one man to the other, shaking his head. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Couldn't believe all of it...all of the trouble and worry and hardship had led to this meeting in the butt end of nowhere.

"The house will be in my name. And it will have a lab for Carl."

"All right. Fine. Anything else? What about dispensation for you?"

"I was getting to that. Your tests–I'll undergo them, but Benerd and Carl will do them. All of them. No more waking up tied to the bed. No more Inquisition–ever."

Jinette had the grace to look embarrassed and a little guilty. "Yes, well I'll admit I lost my temper...somewhat. You didn't have to take Carl, though."

Carl blinked at the note of hurt in Jinette's voice. "Your Grace...he didn't take me...per se."

"Quiet, Carl. He's giving you an out," Van Helsing growled, but a smile turned up his lips and his eyes were light.

"Oh. Well. All right. I can be a kidnaped victim I suppose. My lab...it's all right?"

The Cardinal nodded, his arms descending to clasp behind him now with an insufferable air. "Yes. It's fine. Though I should have had the damned thing parsed out to six other craftsmen to teach you a lesson. You'll work hard to make it up to me, Carl."

"Yes, yes. Of course." Carl sighed, shrugging. "Well, this has been..."

"Yes, it has," Jinette interrupted with a nod to Carl. "But enough talking. We need to get back. Rome is under siege and you two have a hell of a cleanup job to do."

Van Helsing hesitated, then nodded turning away only to be called back by Jinette who tossed something to him.

"Here. Thought you might want this back," the prelate growled, watching the hunter catch the glittering rosary. "Reynaldo was fit to be tied, you know."

"That's why I did," Van Helsing smirked, tucking the rosary into his vest. "He enjoyed every minute of it, I imagine."

"Aye, probably did," Jinette shuddered. "Get out of here. Both of you."

* * *

The hunter and friar returned to Rome much as they had left it–running for their lives. The air was thick with flying monsters while the ground crawled thick with every conceivable travesty of nature. Van Helsing's crossbow sang continuously and Carl had found himself the unlikely and unwilling wielder of the tojo gun.

As they ran through the streets, they saw the Vatican guard fighting with the monsters in the streets, with weapons that could only have come from the Order's weapons labs. The corpses on the ground were piled in monstrous heaps, some of which Carl gagged to realize contained a mixture of both humans and non humans.

"Carl! Above you!"

Van Helsing's shout roused the friar from his temporary fugue, and Carl hastily raised the heavy gun, barely taking time to aim before firing. The vampire above him screamed as the whirling blades tore into its wings causing the beast to sheer in the wind and fall to the ground. Now Carl was faced with the angry vampire before him, screaming its bloodlust. It moved fast, so fast he didn't have time to bring the gun up before it was on him, knocking them both to the ground.

He heard its inhuman growls above him, felt its loathsome hands on his body, on his head forcing his face away to bare his neck. Then heard it scream in agony as he shoved a silver stake into its body, pressing a button to release holy water from the point. The puff of ash over him was nauseating, but he ignored it and sat up, reaching for his gun.

He saw Gabriel running toward him and waved the hunter off as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. He was filthy and he could smell the ashes on his clothing. Van Helsing didn't look any better, but the smiles he gave Carl when he realized the friar was all right made him forget the death all around him for an instant. Then they were back in the thick of it.

Ahead, a man that Carl vaguely recognized as the guard he had coaxed into delivering his letter to the Inquisition, screamed as he was brought down by a vampire, his head wrenched back as the vampire buried its fangs into his neck. Carl shot the vampire, but the man was already dead. He was sickened by the bloody wound on the white throat and had to force himself to reach down and close the dead eyes.

"Carl!" The friar turned to see Benerd hurry to him, a smile on his dirt-smeared face. "By God, I'm glad you're all right!"

"I'm glad to see you too. Should you be out here?"

"Aye," the monk waved an axe at Carl, making the friar hastily duck out of the way. "Silver and treated with holy water. I'm doing well enough and I stay out of the way of the big beasties."

Footsteps on the pavement made both men whirl, weapons raised, only to sigh with relief when Van Helsing appeared before them. "Follow me. We need to get to the Palace. We can hold them off there until the sun rises."

The three men ran, dodging and fighting when necessary. Van Helsing was set on by vampires. They attempted to lift him into the air only to be brought down by Carl's gun. The hunter gratefully clasped the friar's shoulder but did halt his progress to the Palace. They arrived at the great doors in time to meet the brunt of the horde. Evidently, with sunrise so close, the monsters were making a concerted effort to cause as much damage as possible before being driven underground once again.

Carl saw Jinette, briefly, swinging a sword with great competency, before he was blocked from sight. All around the friar, the shadows crawled with monsters. He expected to be pulled down and dispatched any second but somehow he continued to stand and fight. Often he felt cold fingers seize him from behind only to have them struck off by one of the other men fighting with him. He in turn did the same for them.

The tojo gun was of very little use now, with the Order's fighters all around him. He had settled into fighting with the silver stake in one hand and a long blade that Van Helsing had thrust at him in the other. They fought until they couldn't fight any longer, couldn't raise their arms, and still they had to fight. Carl didn't understand where all of the beasts had come from. Surely, Gabriel's leaving the Order hadn't brought this on. It was a horrible idea that made Carl sick with guilt at the thought.

When the first rays of the sun turned the sky a bright crimson red, Carl felt he'd been fighting his entire life. He was covered in blood and ash and other unnameable, but no less disgusting, bits and pieces and he felt as if his arms were going to drop off at the shoulder. The monsters around him had diminished drastically. Those left were running, flying, undulating away as fast as they could go. A loud ragged cheer went up from the men gathered at the gates, but Carl just let his knees give out, plopping him unceremoniously onto the street. He was dead tired and the only thing worth cheering about was the idea of going to bed.

Van Helsing appeared beside him, crouching, balancing on the balls of his feet. His gaze on Carl was both proud and concerned and Carl basked in it as he waved a hand feebly.

"I'm fine. Just damned tired."

"I'm not surprised. If you can stand, I'll help you to your room."

The friar nodded and allowed the hunter to pull him up. They'd only taken a few steps when Jinette appeared before them, eyeing them appraisingly before speaking.

"You did well. It's a mercy I found you when I did. We have to talk, but I'll let you rest first."

"Talk?" Van Helsing asked, his gaze intent on the Cardinal. "You've found something out."

"Yes. This attack, it was masterminded and deliberate. We have a spy in the Palace, in the Order. When you're rested, come to me. I'll need you to go out. You'll need to find the ones who are summoning the beasts and put a stop to them, quickly. If you don't, all of this will have been for nothing–the attacks will continue until we are overrun."

Carl felt the blood leave his face and he staggered against Van Helsing. The hunter grimly held him, nodding to Jinette as he pulled Carl upright and proceeded into the Palace.

Carl was only vaguely aware of the journey to his room. He was aware that the hunter was having to almost carry him, but couldn't summon the strength to be of more assistance. Van Helsing didn't seem to mind, however. He hugged Carl to him and supported his stumbling steps through the silent dark hallways, eventually delivering them both to the small chamber. Once inside, he bolted the door before helping Carl to the bed. Wordlessly, he bent and removed Carl's shoes.

Carl blushed when he felt Van Helsing's fingers at the clasp of his robe, but he didn't protest. Instead, he summoned the strength to raise his own hands to the buckles on the hunter's vest, tugging them open, slowly, one at a time. He had to concentrate to make his fingers do as he willed them but the vest was opening. When he felt the cloth ease from his shoulders to be replaced with the heat of Van Helsing's fingers, he gasped, and felt the other man falter for the first time.

"Carl? I can leave you now. Let you sleep. It would probably be best."

"No," the friar shook his head, a small smile on his lips. His fingers coordinated to allow him to push the vest open, his hands moving to tiredly stroke the sweater beneath, feeling the solidity of the hunters body with pleasure. "I want you to stay with me. Here. I'm too tired to do much, but I want you to stay near me. Hold me."

"All right." Van Helsing eased the robe off Carl's shoulders, helping him stand briefly so he could pull the robe away and toss it to the floor. Then he touched the plain cotton trousers Carl wore. When he received an approving nod, he helped the friar to remove those as well, then eased Carl's nude body into the bed, covering it with the course linen sheeting and nubby blankets.

His own clothes were removed with tired practiced expediency. Carl moved over, allowing the hunter to slide into the bed beside him. With a sigh of grateful pleasure that seemed to come from his very soul, Carl rolled into Van Helsing's side and laid his cheek against the hunter's chest. For the first time, they lay within each other's arms without clothing or modesty between them. Their bodies warmed each other and the intimacy of skin on skin made the horrors of the night fade.

Carl rubbed his cheek against Van Helsing's chest and felt the hair on it rustle against his skin. It felt right, and safe, and he thanked God that they had both survived the night. Van Helsing's arms were around him, holding him firmly while his calloused hands gently stroked Carl's back. Their legs tangled together, thighs pressed intimately high and tight made Carl want to moan with pleasure. When Van Helsing's hand moved down his back to touch and stroke over the swell of his buttock, Carl did moan.

"You like that?" Van Helsing asked quietly and Carl nodded. "Yes, very much."

"You feel wonderful," the hunter sighed and rubbed his cheek against Carl's hair, kissing the soft strands.

"Mmmm, so do you."

Van Helsing moved slightly, urged Carl to look up, and pressed his mouth to the friar's. Licking the lips beneath his gently, then taking Carl's lower lip into his own mouth, he tongued the smooth flesh before releasing Carl's lips with a soft sucking noise that made Carl moan again.

The muscular thigh between Carl's legs moved, stroking him, pressing firmly and Carl writhed, thrusting helplessly against it. He panted against Van Helsing's skin, kissing and nipping at it and felt the hunter shiver. Now Van Helsing moved against him, withdrawing his thigh and shushing Carl when the friar cried out against the loss.

Then the friar moaned, loudly, when the hunter's body turned into his and their bodies pressed against one another, Van Helsing's hands hard on Carl's hips, pulling him roughly into his own body. Hard against one another, Carl cried out as Van Helsing ground his hips into the friar's, rubbing his length against Carl's. "G...Gabriel...oh God, that feels so good!"

"I...love..you, Carl," Van Helsing growled, and then moaned as Carl experimentally touched then stroked his buttock. "I love you...too," the friar's teeth were chattering and he enthusiastically moved his hips, rutting against the hunter. They held one another, moving in time, touching and stroking, kissing swollen lips. When Carl came, he cried out, then cried out again when he felt Van Helsing come.

Van Helsing gently stroked Carl's back, holding him as the friar shuddered strongly, easing him down from the heights of his pleasure until he finally lay limply sprawled over Van Helsing's chest.

Carl rubbed his face against Van Helsing, enjoying the feel of him and the scent of himself on the other man's skin. His voice was dreamy when he spoke, and he smiled to hear the chuckle in Van Helsing's reply.

"I've never been with a man, before. That was...well...splendid, actually."

"I'm glad. I rather enjoyed it too."

Carl considered this, then spoke with firm certainty. "Yes, well you realize this means no more bar maids for either of us. I'm not sleeping with you smelling like a tavern wench."

"Hmm. _You_ realize, you wench more than I do."

"Well, that's something you'll have to make up to me, won't you!"

Van Helsing laughed outright then, and hugged Carl so tightly the friar squeaked.

"Yes, I suppose I will."

They lay quiet for some time; Van Helsing listened to Carl's even breathing and assumed he'd fallen asleep when Carl spoke sleepily, his voice slurred.

"You'll have to go out...on a mission. To stop whoever is doing this?"

"Yes. I'll leave tomorrow."

"_We'll_ leave tomorrow." Carl roused enough to speak firmly, then snuggled against Van Helsing with a decided air.

"Yes. We'll leave tomorrow, then. Get some sleep, Carl. Tomorrow is not far away."

"As long as we're together...I...don't...mi...zzzzzzz"

Van Helsing smiled tiredly, and lowered his head to rest his cheek against Carl's tousled hair. When the morrow came, he would be able to handle what had to be done. As long as he had Carl with him, he always would be.

**_The Beginning _**


End file.
